Teeth
by hathanhate
Summary: After Harry screws up the animagus process, he begins a journey through new forms of magic, hidden places, and secrets. With his world changing around him, he must find his place; first in this war, and then in the world. Eventually, his path will lead him to new places, and new allies, and a new war will begin. (begins in HP universe, will crossover later)
1. Introduction

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The first time is like being struck by lightning. It hits fast and hard and slips through his body like a vicious current, burning him from the inside out and leaving him screaming until his throat is a raw, sore mess that refuses to take in food without pain for weeks afterwards. There is a rushing in his ears when it happens like a raging river that crashes into him and tries to drown him in itself. Bright colors splotch behind his eyelids but he barely notices them, too concerned with the agony of the experience. He never hears or sees his relatives run in and stare at him in horror, never views their worried and panicked faces. He only learns of it later, when their behaviour changes, when the fear of him makes them complacent. He thought he had followed the instructions in the animagus book perfectly, but clearly some mistake was made, because this pain is nothing like what the book described. Eventually it passes, snapping away as quickly as it had unleashed itself upon him. The next morning when he can see without his glasses, and the mirror reveals minor changes he will panic slightly and try to find an explanation in the book, but will discover only the mistake he has made.

The second time is more like lava. The pain comes slowly, torturously, moving through him bit by bit and making him gasp and whine and cry. It is both better and worse than the first time. The pain is not so intense as then, but it lasts for hours. When it is done, it will be many hours more before he moves, and then only because Dudley carries him to his bed and washes the vomit, he never realized he expelled, from his body with a wet rag. When he can move again, smells will have become stronger, nearly tangible things in the air around him. The mirror this time will show pointed ears and two strange bumps on his forehead.

The third time is better. His relatives, now afraid for him more than of him, are with him in the living room when he gasps and his face contorts in pain. It is not so bad as the first two times, and he likens it to getting too close to a fire and feeling the heat of the flames along his body. He staggers from his seat and Vernon helps him into bed this time so that he might sleep when it passes. They have been far kinder to him since he saved Dudley from the dementors. The flames of pain lick across his spine and his face, and he falls into an exhaustion induced sleep before they fade. It is when Petunia gasps in shock the next day and a rush to the mirror reveals the scales that he finally decides it might be time to owl Sirius.

There are no larger 'fits' for some time, just smaller occurrences like being so itchy in a single place until his scratching peels away bloody skin to reveal more scales. There are headaches, and the time when his fingers feel as though he has dipped them in hot candlewax. Each instance is accompanied by more and more changes, and Sirius' reply to his letter reveals very little the man can do to help, and no knowledge as to what is happening to him. There is peace for a time, long enough to make him feel that perhaps whatever is happening has stopped. The Dursleys are relieved, and help him try to hide the current changes, so that he can run in disguise to Diagon Alley and try to find more books on the subject of animagus transformations gone wrong. He finds very little to help him, and doesn't dare contact Hermione for help. Then the last fit comes.

Like the first, it tears screams from his throat and he is left unaware of the world around him until he is claimed by sleep. This time is like molten steel being poured down the length of his back, and it is the worst of them. When next he is aware enough to take in the changes wrought on his body he barely feels afraid of it all, having nearly expected it. He wonders if it is done now, and begins to try to shift into another form, sneaking into the woods nearby to practice. If he must bare with these changes then he wants at least the benefit of a proper transformation. He does not manage at first, but one day his bones shift beneath his skin and he falls to all fours and grows. A lake reveals his appearance to him and he owls Sirius again to describe what he has the power to become.

The man comes to get him then, hiding him away in Grimwauld place's attic without the Order's knowledge. They hunt through book after book until they find the creature that he is. When they do, they set their minds to finding the best way to hide it. No one can know. Through plan after plan and glamour after charm after runic configuration they manage to make him look as he once did to anyone else's eyes. Only Sirius and he know the truth, not even Ron or Hermione will be told, and that, Harry decides, is for the best.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**


	2. Part One, Chapter One

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry scratched irritably at the chain around his neck. It was a thick thing, like an industrial chain rather than a necklace, and it was heavy. He wasn't sure what it was made out of but it felt like metal, only it was a black he had never seen in any metal and it didn't shine much. If one looked very closely they might see the thin runes that were carved meticulously into each link.

He hated the thing, but it was all that stood between his true appearance and the rest of the world and so he would wear it, no matter how uncomfortable it was. He and Sirius had worked tirelessly on creating it, and he had taken an interest in runes because of it. They were supposedly very difficult to master, but it seemed to come as naturally to him as flying on a broom had. Sirius had looked at him as though he was insane when he had commented on how easy they were to understand.

The research it had required to be able to create the damnable thing had been exhausting. Harry had nearly given up and asked Hermione for help, but he was glad now that he hadn't. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. It was better that she didn't know. It was better that no one else knew. He looked out the window at the passing scenery. It bothered him to keep such a big secret from his best friends, but he was glad at least that his godfather knew and accepted him regardless. It made it all much easier to bear.

The Dursleys knew as well of course, but that was different, though he wasn't sure yet as to why. They had made an effort to be an actual family since the summer after third year. The ministry had called back the dementors from the hunt for Sirius that year, but a couple of them had come around that summer and in their hunger for souls had nearly kissed Dudley. Harry had almost been expelled when he saved him, and had never expected anything good to come of the incident, having run off to Diagon Alley on the night bus while his relatives were still in shock from Dudley telling them what had happened. So it had come as a pleasant surprise to come home after the hell of the triwizard tournament and Cedric's death in fourth year to find them being civil to him. It had been a nice distraction from his problems until Sirius sent him that book on becoming an animagus and he had botched it by jumping the gun without taking the necessary precautions.

Like that potion to keep his animagus form from physically affecting his human body.

He sighed. It was too late now, as there was nothing to reverse the damage once it had been done. It didn't really bother him too much anyways, and he supposed it could possibly give him an advantage against Voldemort when he was next forced to face him. The only thing that was really an issue would be having to keep it a secret from everyone. But he would manage.

Laughter cut through his thoughts as the compartment door opened and he chastised himself for not having paid enough attention to have noticed it sooner. Hermione came in with a grin, dragging Ron in by the hand behind her. Ron plopped into the bench across from Harry and Hermione sat next to the redhead with a bit more grace. He eyed the smoky forms that shifted with his friends. An odd side effect of his botched transformation was the ability to see these things. So far as he could tell, they were people's inner animals, and everyone had one. They seemed to match up with a person's animagus form, or the form they would have if they became an animagus. They had the added benefit of showing him exactly what a person was feeling regardless of whether they tried to hide it or not. Each one was also a singular color, which he had yet to find the reason for.

Upon Hermione's shoulder sat an owl. It was a beautiful, regal thing nearly as majestic as Hedwig. It was a warm brown color, and like all of these things, he could see through it just like a ghost. It twittered and made a pleased sort of crooning sound which he knew only he could hear.

At Ron's feet sat a kneehigh floppy-eared dog. It glowed a burnt orange color and panted in contentment, occasionally letting out a happy sort of bark. Its demeanor changed rapidly however as the compartment door opened again, at which it leapt to its' feet and snarled angrily, hackles rising. The Hermione owl also looked agitated now as its' feathers puffed up irritably.

In the doorway stood Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle; here no doubt for their usual heckling of the golden trio. Harry eyed them for a moment, studying the smoky figures that clung to them. A deep grey cat perched on Malfoy's shoulder. Or perhaps, he amended upon sight of the tufted ears, a kneazle. It looked down at him with the same superior gaze that Malfoy wore.

Standing at Goyle's side was a huge, dark brown rottweiler. Unlike the Ron-dog it wasn't growling, and actually looked more bored than anything else. Harry looked at Crabbe and blinked, twice, before he accepted that yes, that was a lavender-shaded bunny sitting on top of his head.

Malfoy smirked down at them. "Hello scarhead, Weasel, mudblood." Ron leapt to his feet with a glare, held back only by Hermione's hand on his arm, and Harry bit back a snarl as his anger burned through his mind like boiling water inside his skull. Outwardly he kept his face blank. He had grown better at controlling his emotions, knowing he would need it this year if he intended to keep his secrets.

"What do you want, ferret?" The words spewed from Ron like venom, and while Malfoy only smirked wider, the Malfoy-kneazle hissed.

"Oh nothing much," He looked down at his nails in feigned disinterest. "Just wondering perhaps if you had heard."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Heard what, Malfoy?"

"Nothing too terribly important, just about the ministry taking a more, hands on, approach with Hogwarts. You know, because of your mental instability so they can make sure you don't go off killing more students like that Diggory boy-"

Harry had stood up and was now directly in front of Malfoy. "Fuck. Off." He growled out, eyes dark. He watched as Malfoy paled and his eyes widened just slightly. The Malfoy-kneazle let out a shrill, frightened sort of noise, and the blonde backed off without further trouble. Harry slammed the door closed and took a deep breath, trying to pull back the rage that had burned like poison in his veins. He sighed and sat back down, firmly ignoring the looks his friends sent him. He wasn't in the mood to bother with them right now, and they had enough experience with his brooding to know when to press him and when to leave him be.

He needed a better reign on his temper, or he was never going to get through the year.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

He felt relieved as his head hit the pillow that night. That Umbridge woman had seemed like a menace, and he was definitely not looking forward to his first DADA lesson this year. Not to mention how Dumbledore had called him into his office and told him how he was going to have Occlumency lessons with Snape this year. It had completely ruined the good mood Harry had been put into after seeing the bright yellow billygoat that symbolized the man's inner animal.

The headmaster had given him a book on the subject of Occlumency and he promised himself to study it extensively before his first lesson. He wasn't sure it would do any good though. From what Dumbledore had said it would take extensive practice before he would be able to successfully keep Snape out of his mind. That meant it was all too likely that the man would find out his secrets. He groaned into the bedspread and sent a plea to the gods that he might be as much a natural with the mind arts as he was with runes or Quidditch.

He sighed and lay still, listening quietly to the sounds of his dorm mates. He heard as Neville's breathing evened out and Seamus' quiet snuffles filled the room. Dean stopped moving about and became quiet in his sleep and then Ron's louder snores began. He sighed again. He felt anxious, and doubted he could sleep properly. He bit his lip and whined worriedly. After another moment of indecision he climbed silently out of his bed and moved to his trunk.

He moved slowly, doing his best to remain quiet as he dug about and found his father's cloak and the map. He tensed as something in his trunk shifted and made a clunking noise, but relaxed again as there was no change in his roommates' breathing. Then he threw the cloak over his form and slipped from the room. He waited until he stood just inside the common room door before utilizing the map, and when he was certain no one was near enough to him for it to be an issue, he left.

He moved quick, sprinting through the halls in such a way that would have had him panting for breath the previous year but now had nearly no effect on him. The improved stamina was one of the things he enjoyed about the changes in his body. His bare feet made little noise as he rushed through the various halls, the glamour-hidden padding on them silencing his feet and absorbing the motion shock. He didn't stop until he reached the moving staircases and leapt instantly; no hesitation in the action. He fell towards the ground floor, the cloak billowing and rising up to reveal his bare feet and legs had anyone been around to see them. He landed on his feet and his knees bent as he did, a soft thump sounding out through the room. He paused, ears working carefully to assess the area around him before he was running again, slipping silently out the front doors and then across the grounds towards the forest, moving even quicker now that there was grass beneath his feet.

Sneaking into the forest was effortless, the place that once seemed so dangerous and threatening now feeling like coming home. He sighed as he ran through the trees, slowing to a more leisurely pace, already feeling less stress. Eventually he found his way to a clearing and found a hollow old log to hide his things in. He placed the cloak and map there carefully, along with his glasses, the lenses of which had been replaced with regular glass to mask the fact they were no longer needed. He stood naked in front of the log then, the only thing on him being the chain around his neck. Until he took that off too.

His form shimmered as the illusion fell and and he placed the chain utop everything else almost reverently. He purred in pleasure now that the glamours were gone, having felt the weight of them heavily the past few days. Then he stepped back, and with a sigh, began to change. It washed over him like rainwater, and the shift went smoothly. His bones creaked and cracked as they rearranged themselves and grew, his skin stretched and morphed into fur and scales, and he fell to all fours.

A satisfied growl rumbled out of his throat, filling the clearing like thunder. It felt good to be in this form. He looked to the trees. He wanted to run, to hunt. This time was for him to be himself, he would worry about grumpy potions professors and evil dark lords and secrets later.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

It had taken some effort to be able to change his classes from what they had been set to be this year. In the end, McGonagall had replied to his owl in the affirmative, and now, on top of his basic classes, he would be in ancient runes, arithmancy, ancient studies, and care of magical creatures. It meant more work, but runes fascinated him and he would need the arithmancy class for help in the more advanced runes. He would have both those classes with Hermione, but not Ron, while care of magical creatures would feature a lack of Hermione, since she had dropped it in favor of muggle studies despite the protests from the boys. He was surprised to note that he would be alone in ancient studies, an optional class he had chosen to take because of the old runic and ritual work they did. It wasn't a popular subject, the classes always very small, but he had expected Hermione to be interested enough to take it.

Harry sighed to himself when he realized they would have history of magic first today. It wasn't the best start to the year, but Harry viewed it as the equivalent of a free period and figured it would be as good a time as any to start on that Occlumency book. Binns always assigned seating so it was doubtful he'd end up near his friends, and as such he wouldn't be forced to explain the book and extra lessons. It would also be a chance to relax a bit before potions, which they had with the Slytherin's like usual.

Mind made up, Harry resolutely bit into his salmon, doing his best to ignore the food that spewed from where Ron sat across from him.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

By the time potions class came about, Harry was in a better mood. From what he had gleaned from the Occlumency book it was likely he would occasionally throw the mind attacks back at Snape as he progressed, and thus see some of his memories. There was a section near the beginning that listed various privacy oaths a teacher and student could enter into together in order to ensure neither could share what they found inside the other's mind, and Harry could imagine Snape agreeing to a few if only for his own interests.

Seeing Snape was an interesting experience, when one was able to view the large black bicorn at his side. It looked mainly like a horse, but a bit larger and stockier, with two horns coming from each side of it's head and connecting into a singular thing a bit above its' neck. This gave the near illusion of the beast having a halo. It surprised him to see such a beautiful creature was the embodiment of his professor and he wondered absently for a moment if Snape had ever become an animagus and was thus aware of his form or not.

The class was uneventful, focussing mainly on review of last year as was common for the first lesson, and the Slytherins were unusually well behaved. Harry was therefore a bit startled when class ended and Snape asked him to remain for a moment. Ron and Hermione cast him worries looks as they shuffled out but Harry only shrugged.

"Mr. Potter, would I be correct in assuming that the headmaster has made you aware of your coming lessons?" The man's voice was as sharp as it usually was when he addressed Harry and the equine behind him chuffed irritably.

"Yes sir."

"And have you bothered to yet read the material given to you?"

"I'm on chapter six sir."

A black eyebrow was raised in what Harry assumed was surprise and the bicorn tossed its' head with a snort. "I expect you to have read through to chapter twelve by the time of our first lesson and to have memorized as much of it as your lowly mind can handle. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Your first lesson will take place on Thursday. You are to report here immediately after dinner. Dismissed."

He looked away from Harry then, his attention drawn to some papers on his desk. Harry made to leave, but hesitated a moment, thoughts of the privacy oaths coming to him. He paused.

"Sir?"

Snape looked up, seeming genuinely surprised he had yet to leave. The bicorn chuffed again and stomped a foot into the stone floor. "Yes, Mr. Potter?" His gaze was dark and Harry swallowed but gathered his courage and stood straighter, his determination showing in his eyes.

"The book mentioned a few privacy oaths, to protect the both of us from sharing what we find inside each other's heads. I would like to enter into such an oath before our first lesson, otherwise..." He swallowed fearfully, knowing how easily he might piss the professor off. "Otherwise I will have to refuse the lessons with you in favor of another teacher." He was proud of himself for keeping his voice firm and unwavering.

Snape paused, his expression blank, yet the ghostly beast behind him let out an approving whinny. He smirked. "Very well Mr. Potter. I will agree to such an oath as it benefits us both. You may leave now."

Harry nodded shakily and hurried away.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

After potions was his first ancient studies class. He was nervous, as he had never before had any classes without either Ron or Hermione. His nerves only increased when he discovered himself to be the only Gryffindor, the class small enough that they just combined each house into a single class. There were about sixteen other people aside from him, ten of whom seemed to be Ravenclaws, along with two Hufflepuffs, and four Slytherins; none of whom were Malfoy, though he did recognize one dark skinned boy as someone who was one of Malfoy's friends. Zabini, he thought the guy's name was. His inner animal seemed to be a panther, which made him smirk in amusement, that presented itself in a deep, near-black, red hue.

The only other person he recognized was a Ravenclaw in the year beneath him that he had met on the train named Lovegood, who, like him, could apparently see those scaled horse creatures that pulled the carriages. She was accompanied by a large pink bat that sat on top of her head, the breed of which he didn't recognize. She smiled dreamily at him as he sat down a couple seats away from her. The tables were set up to house three people apiece, and his was empty aside from himself.

The professor for this class was a man he only vaguely recognized as someone he had seen in the halls occasionally, as he never seemed to eat in the great hall during meal times. He was an older man, with wispy, greying brown hair that couldn't seem to decide what direction it wanted to stick in. He wore thick circular glasses that made him resemble Trelawney, and made his black eyes appear very large and bug-like. He was short and thin, though Harry knew the man was still taller than himself, and he smiled happily at them all as the bell rang. The ghostly animal that sat on his desk was a yellow creature that looked like a kneazle, but with a lion-like mane and narrow eyes. It purred, showing that the professor's happiness was apparently genuine.

"Hello there everyone!" His voice was gravelly, but strong, and he grinned at them all as he spoke. "I am professor Morris, and I am gl-" He was cut off as the door slammed open and another student stumbled clumsily in. Harry was surprised to see it was Neville.

"S-sorry I'm late, I-"

The professor waved a hand in dismissal. "That's quite alright boy, if you'll just have a seat,"

"Y-yes sir!"

"Now then, as I was saying, I am happy to see you all here, though I will admit disappointment that our class this year is so small, as I had hoped for a better turn-out. It is not unexpected however, as my classes are usually rather on the small side. You will see that this class consists of all four houses and that you lot range in year from third to fifth. I will expect you to keep any house rivalry out of my classroom, as I will not tolerate it." His face grew stern at the proclamation, and everyone nodded in obedience.

"Well then, if you enjoy this class, as I have no doubt that you will, you will be allowed to attend advanced ancient studies and beginners spellcrafting next year, both of which I also teach, and which you may not take without first passing this class. I will suggest however, that if you take one next year, that you take them both. We will cover a great many subjects this year, some theoretical, some practical. Most of our practical work will require you to work with other people. As such, you will be assigned to groups of three. These groups will be yours for the rest of the year, and I will expect you to show respect to your groupmates, and for each of you to do your part." With that he began to point to various tables and list off names, and everyone was forced from their seats.

"Potter, Lovegood, and Curtis! Over here." Harry found himself at the second table back from the front, on the left side of the small classroom. Luna sat in the middle, between him and a tall Hufflepuff boy with long chocolate colored hair that was in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, and eyes so light a brown they were nearly orange. His inner animal seemed to be a fiery salamander that matched his eyes almost perfectly in color and clung to his back. Harry didn't recognize him, but unlike most of the Hufflepuffs, who all seemed to hate or fear him, the boy smiled and reached across Luna to present his hand.

"Daniel Curtis, pleasure to meet you."

His grin was genuine and Harry returned it as he shook his hand. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you too."

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad year after all.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The first class passed without incident, and mostly the professor only lectured on what they would be doing that year and what was expected of them as his students. Usually when a professor lectured, Harry would find himself bored, but Professor Morris was engaging and charismatic; easily holding his attention. Harry was glad that despite his physical resemblance to Trelawney, they had nothing else in common.

When he had finished his lecture he had left them alone to get to know the other members of their group. Luna had said hello to them both, apparently knowing the Hufflepuff already. Daniel and Harry had hit it off as well as he and Ron initially had, and he felt that they both would become good friends in time. After that he had gone to lunch, and then Charms class, which had passed without incident.

Then had come Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Harry had both earned himself a detention, and decided that he officially hated Umbridge. He cursed himself for letting his temper get the best of him, but he couldn't have let her make Cedric's sacrifice out to be nothing. After that hell was Transfiguration, and now, finally, it was time for dinner, and Harry was exhausted.

His schedule this year was rather full, and he hoped he managed to survive it without exhausting himself. "Hey Harry?" He looked up from his food to find Ron, sitting across from him and looking down. There was an embarrassed look on his face, and the Ron-dog whimpered.

His eyebrows scrunched together in concern. "Yea Ron?"

"Uh, um, Hermione said," He paused and sighed, then seemed to gather himself up before he looked up and met Harry's eyes before speaking in a rush. "Me and Hermione started dating this summer, and we didn't say anything before because there was so much going on and-"

Harry grinned. "That's great Ron! I'm happy for you guys." Ron spluttered in surprise and then grinned in relief, his inner dog panting happily.

"I just wanted to let you know because, I figure, sometimes me and Herm might wanna go to Hogsmeade by ourselves, and, well,"

"You didn't want me to feel left out?"

"Well, yea." He blushed and Harry snickered.

"It's fine mate. I have a lot of work to do this year so I figure I can just use the times you guys go on dates to study. I'll need it, I think, between ancient studies and ancient runes."

"Ancient studies? Is that that odd class you're taking this year?"

"Yea. I had my first class today. The professor is brilliant."

"Huh, I think Bill might have taken that class... If you want, I can owl him and see if he's still got anything that might help."

Harry beamed. "That would be great Ron!" The redhead shuddered. "What?"

He smirked, "You're turning into Hermione. "

Harry mock glared. "Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am no-"

"BOYS!"

A chorus of "Sorry Hermione!" was heard before they all collapsed into laughter.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Mid-morning on Tuesday was Harry's first ancient runes class. He sat with Hermione at a small table near the front of the average-sized classroom, which was rather quiet; not much of a surprise when one noted that they spent it with Ravenclaws. The professor was a small, plump woman reminiscent of Professor Sprout, but with dark, curly hair, and much paler. She dove right into things, speaking of runes with an awe that revealed her immense love for the subject, and she spoke quickly. It was a rapid-fire class, where they flowed from one thing to the next very quickly. To Harry, the runes were easily understood and deciphered, and he took leisurely notes as he went.

He was surprised when he realized no one else seemed to have the same sort of ease with the subject, and that even Hermione appeared to be struggling with the fast pace. There were a couple of Ravenclaws that appeared to have a better grasp on the subject than most, but even they didn't answer questions and translate the runes with the same smoothness that Harry did when called upon.

He was hardly surprised to see the excitable professor's inner animal was a hyper, electric-blue ferret that rarely stayed in the same position about her form for very long. The class was exciting, and challenging, and Harry reveled in the true enjoyment that it inspired in him. Unlike most professors, who were content not to assign homework on the first class, she tasked them with choosing a rune they felt the most 'connection' with and writing about its' history, why they had chosen it, and its' most common uses. Many of the students groaned in irritation, but Harry only grinned. He felt he was going to enjoy this class.

His first arithmancy class was later on that same day, and where Harry had immensely enjoyed ancient runes, he found he detested this class nearly as much as potions. Septima Vector was a tall, no-nonsense woman with striking features, long dark hair, and a deep tan. She spoke in direct sentences and looked down her nose at them all as though they were beneath her. She didn't insult people, like Snape, and she didn't feign kindness either, like Umbridge. Rather, she was strictly professional, but in such a detached way that it was clear she didn't truly care about her students. Her attitude contrasted deeply with the huge, dark purple butterfly that represented her.

Where runes had come easily to him, learning the magical properties of numbers was challenging, and he struggled with it. He did find, however, that it was easier when the thought about them in tandem with runes. The way that the numbers affected various runes came to him almost instinctively, though he found what he thought to be occasionally at odds with what Professor Vector was telling them.

She seemed almost giddy when she assigned a three foot essay on the power of the number seven.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry's first occlumency lesson came too soon for his tastes. He stood nervously outside the potion's classroom, not wanting to knock, but knowing he needed to. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached a hand up to knock.

"You are late, Mr. Potter." Harry started and looked up. Snape stood a few feet from him, and as he watched, the man began to walk down the hallway. "This way Potter." Harry scowled and followed him, deciding not to comment on how he couldn't really be late if Snape wasn't even there yet.

"Where are we going?" They had made their way a bit deeper into the dungeons, and had just passed the expanse of stone wall he knew to be the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Both Snape and the black bicorn snorted. "We are going to my office. Your lessons are to take place there. I will expect you to remember the way on your own, if you are capable of such a task." His voice was condescending through the implied insult, but it put Harry at ease more than it irritated him. Snape's consistent dislike of him was an island of unchanging normalcy in a sea of confusing and stressful changes.

"Yes sir." They walked in silence after that, and Harry was careful to mark where they went, until they arrived at a large oak door with a great iron door knocker but no doorknob. Snape mumbled something that was too low for Harry to hear with the glamours weakening his senses, but which was no doubt a password of some sort as the door immediately swung open of its' own accord.

The room that was revealed was different than the potion's classroom. There was only one desk, which he assumed was Snape's, that was backed with a comfy-looking brown leather chair. There was an expanse of empty space before the desk that was filled only with a deep red carpet and a couple seats in front of the desk. There was an entire wall of shelves on Harry's left side filled with various books and potion's ingredients, and a closed door on the right next to a lavish fireplace Harry assumed was for floo.

Snape moved until he stood in front of the desk before he turned to face Harry, his face blank. "I believe you mentioned a desire for a secrecy oath? Was there one in particular you intended to use?" The Snape-bicorn snorted and looked at him in a way that betrayed more than Snape's face. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but couldn't help but feel there was much more to the question.

"Um, the _ligatae lingua _oath, sir." The bicorn made a startled noise, while Snape's face only showed his surprise through the minute raising of his eyebrows.

"That is a rather extensive spell, Mr. Potter." For a moment Harry worried he might deny his request. The _ligatae lingua_ oath was a powerful spell. If done correctly, it would make it impossible for either of them to share what they saw within the other's mind, whether it was a secret or not. They would not even be able to speak of those things at all if anyone else was around. They could speak with each other easily, but could only share information with others if both agreed to it. It was binding, and unbreakable. But then the man smirked, and appeared almost impressed. "Very well Mr. Potter. We will proceed. I would assume you already know the appropriate incantation?"

"Yes sir."

"Then let's get on with it."Harry nodded and they moved closer to one another. They each reached out a hand to clasp the other's wrist, and Harry began, glad that his nervousness did not show in his voice.

"_Qui venit in mentem quid ibi linguam custodiat. Iureiurando obligare ad magiae te, et custodiat semper tibi concedo_." The words flowed from his mouth smoothly, but slowly, and carefully, as he had practiced them extensively for the past two days.

"_Accipimus sacramentum tantum, integrum restituere digneris_" Snape's voice worked over the phrase with an ease that came from experience with latin words that Harry did not yet possess.

"_Concedo. Sic fiat_."

"_Sic fiat_." The magic swirled around them in a soft gold, then pulled tight and snapped at them, and Harry felt it wrap around his core like a chain. He swallowed as the magic faded, and he tried to grow accustomed to the feeling of the binding oath. The book had said that eventually he wouldn't notice it at all, and it wouldn't hinder him in any way, but for now it was an uncomfortable feeling like wearing clothes a size too small.

Snape coughed and sat down behind his desk. Harry followed suit and sat in one of the chairs in front of it. "Have you read through chapter 12, Mr. Potter?"

He nodded. "Yes sir."

"And are you confident in your ability to recall that information?"

"I am."

"Very well. How does one begin the process of regular occlusion?"

"By learning to control and suppress emotions."

"And how does a beginner best accomplish this task?"

"Through meditation."

"Have you begun this meditation?"

"I-" He paused, unsure of whether to tell him or not, but it was likely he would find out eventually anyways. "I began meditating during the summer for another purpose, but I've continued it since then. I didn't know until I read the book that it was one of the beginning steps for occlumency, but I did notice that I've been able to control my emotions a little better since I started. At least, most of them."

"Most of them?"

"I, my anger sir. It's very difficult for me to control my temper. I've been trying, but..."

Snape offered an understanding nod rather than the insult to his abilities Harry had expected. "Everyone who begins this has problems with one or two specific emotions. For me, it was also anger, though it is different for every occlumens. The more I intrude upon your mind, the easier it will become for you. Right now, your subconscious sees no reason for the control of emotions you are attempting, but as your mind is attacked, it will endeavour to help you, and you will progress, though it may take some time for you to develop proper shields. At the end of each of our lessons, you will meditate with a focus, and when you are done, you will leave. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well then. Let's begin." He pulled out his wand, though Harry had little doubt he could do this without it, and waited for Harry to nod in acceptance before he raised it. "_Legimens_."

Harry felt the intrusion within his mind like a tangible thing, and he fought against it. He pushed and pulled and shoved, and did his very best to foil the intruder's attempts to see what it wanted, but most of his attempts seemed futile.

_An image moved across his mind; a memory. He was small, much smaller than he was now. Uncle Vernon would be down soon. He would be hungry. He was cooking him breakfast. He focused on the eggs. The bacon was forgotten. It was burnt. Aunt Petunia screeched. She was angry. He had burnt the bacon. Aunt Petunia put his hands in the grease and he screamed. It hurt so bad. She picked him up and threw him back in his cupboard. He curled up on his cot. He knew he would not eat today. He wondered when he would eat at all._

With a roar he wrenched Snape away from the memory and threw him from his mind. He was left gasping for breath in his seat. The bicorn roared and neighed with outrage, and Harry rightly assumed from the shocked expression on the potion master's face that he had succeeded only because Snape had been too surprised by the memory to stop him. They stared at each other for a moment, and the shocked look on Snape's face faded to an inscrutable expression. A few minutes passed, and Harry worried he would comment on what he had seen. He had not expected Snape to look into his childhood. But finally the man sighed and spoke, and Harry was only slightly relieved at what he said.

"Shall we continue?" He swallowed nervously and nodded. "Very well. _Legimens_."

The intrusion was not as striking this time, it moved with apprehension, as though Snape was uncertain he wanted to invade Harry's mind. It was easier then for harry to steer him away from certain memories, at least until Snape realized what was happening. Then he jerked back towards more memories of Harry's childhood.

_The memory was of Uncle Vernon this time. His uncle looked down at him with a face that was purpled in anger. He had been dusting and had accidentally knocked something from a shelf. It had shattered. The great man yelled boy and took off his belt. Harry cringed and lay himself over the sette obediently. His shirt was pulled up and the belt cracked into his back like a whip. It hurt worse than anything. It hit again and again until Harry could feel his flesh torn open. His uncle finally stopped and ordered him to return to his cupboard. He hurried to do so as quickly as he could, before he would get into more trouble for his blood soiling the floor._

He managed to pull Snape away only for the man to delve into another memory of Vernon. This one decidedly more recent.

_He was sitting on the couch. He had never been allowed on it before. Uncle Vernon sat in front of him. He was stuttering out about how if magic could save his son's life then maybe it wasn't so bad as they had thought it was. Harry wasn't sure what to feel. He had long since given up on having any sort of civil relationship with his relatives. What was he supposed to do now?_

Harry finally managed to push Snape from his mind, though it took nearly all of his energy to do so. He panted in his seat. Sweat fell freely down his face and made his robes cling uncomfortably to him. Nothing had taxed him this way since the botched animagus transformation. It was incredible how much physical strain was caused by the mental arts. All at once he felt hungry and tired.

"I think that is enough for today. Timpy!" The strange word made him glance up sharply. A crack filled the air and a petite house elf with huge blue eyes appeared.

"Yes? Sirs be needing Timpy?"

"Bring a bowl of potato soup down please."

"Yes sirs." She disappeared with a bow and a second crack. Harry looked up at Snape in confusion. The potions professor caught his gaze and Harry was only somewhat surprised when he explained.

"You are no doubt rather hungry at the moment, however, you need food that will not greatly impact your stomach, as eating anything that does so would cause you to throw up. Potato soup is filling, and will not cause you any undue nausea."

Harry nodded and then bit his lip. "It was much harder than I had expected it to be."

Snape nodded gravely. "The mental arts are not to be taken lightly. Some are better at it than others, and some excel in one half but not the other, however, there is no such thing as being a 'natural' at the mental arts. To master them requires a great deal of hard work and practice." He paused, and then continued almost grudgingly. "You did well enough for your first time." Harry gaped in shock and then smiled, which only made Snape scowl. "Wipe that smug look off your face Potter or I will gladly remove points."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Timpy, who presented a bowl of tanish cream colored soup to Harry. He sniffed it once, and found it smelled wonderful. He had never eaten potato soup before, and was surprised at how good it was the way it had been made. He had expected something like chopped potatoes cooked in broth, but it appeared the elves mashed the potatoes up completely before they cooked them. It was buttery, and too creamy to not have milk in it. He loved it, and was drinking it from the bowl like it was pumpkin juice before he knew it. He was actually disappointed once it was gone, and surprised that it had, indeed, filled him.

"You may begin your meditation using the fireplace." He blinked.

"The fireplace, sir?"

Snape scowled at him, and snapped when he spoke again. "Yes you stupid boy, the fireplace. You will focus on the fire and use it to meditate."

"I've never used anything as a focus before."

"Well you can start with this! Now get to it!"

Harry glared as he stood up and went to sit in front of the fire as he'd been told. Snape had managed to be mostly civil up till now and he wasn't sure what had set the man off. He settled before the fire with a grumble and took a deep breath to try and calm himself. After a few deep breaths he managed to calm himself to a relatively stress-free state and focused on the fire. He watched the flames dance and twist without reason, seeming alive. He did his best to think of nothing but the fire, and found it not so difficult to do so. The way it moved was fascinating and enchanting, and soon he was lost in a world of flames.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry returned to awareness with Snape shaking him. He blinked several times, finding that it almost hurt to do so and looked up at the man. His face was unreadable as he spoke.

"I will escort you back to the tower. It is past curfew." Harry blanched. 5th years were allowed to be out until eleven in the evening. He had come here around six, which meant he had been here for over five hours. Had the lesson taken longer than he thought, or had his meditation gone on longer than usual?

"I, ah, yes sir." He stood up and stretched, his bones popping satisfyingly. He groaned, and nodded at Snape as the man led him out. They walked in silence, and Harry contemplated his lesson. Having his mind invaded had been brutal, but he felt more aware of his mind now, like he had discovered some extra limb he hadn't known about before and was just starting to learn how to use it. He wondered if that sharp awareness of himself would fade or grow stronger with time. Then there was the meditation. Meditation made a person more aware of themselves over time, and let a person appreciate their environment and relieve stress. It had also been one of the steps in the animagus process. But his meditation today had been different than usual. He had felt far more relaxed afterwards than normally, and there was a calm fog that seemed to have settled over him. But he didn't know if the reason it was different was because of the occlumency lesson beforehand, or the use of the fire as a focus, and he felt no desire to ask Snape.

They didn't run into anyone along the way, for which Harry was grateful. The last person he wanted to see right now was Umbridge. The calm faded quickly with thoughts of her and Harry suddenly wanted very badly to go into the forest again and hunt. Or maybe swim in the lake. He couldn't do that tonight though. There was no time. He needed to get to sleep so he would be awake for classes tomorrow. He thanked Snape quietly as they arrived at the tower and then went in.

He sighed once the portrait closed behind him, that soft tension that seemed to always press upon him when the potion master was around finally gone. He didn't think he would ever be truly comfortable around the man, whether he acted civilly or not. He looked around the common room, expecting it to be empty, but was surprised when he saw two sets of red hair peeking out from behind the top of a couch near the fireplace. Which of the Weasleys were awake at this hour?

He moved around the couch to check, only to stumble back in shock and trip over a chair, causing it to fall with a loud thump and send him sprawling across the ground; thus startling the two on the couch. For a moment he and they only stared at each other. Then he blinked and moved to get up, groaning in slight pain. They leapt from their seats and moved to help him, righting the chair as they went. He mumbled a thanks and they stood there awkwardly. He looked from one to the other of them, and could tell they were nervous. No, more than nervous, he thought, they were frightened. He swallowed as it finally occurred to him that what he just witnessed was likely illegal.

"I, um..." He bit his lip. "I won't tell anyone." They blinked at him. "I promise. What you do with yourselves is no one's business but your own. Nobody needs to know." He could feel their relief like it was a physical thing in the air around them, and more than that he could see it in the actions of the animals that represented them.

"Thanks Harry." George smiled at him, at least, he thought it was George. His bright purple hyena panting and pacing around his feet.

"We didn't think anyone would be in the common room." Fred mumbled the words, but Harry heard them well enough. The forest green fox by his feet whining worriedly.

"Well," He shifted awkwardly. "Just be more careful. Next time it could be someone else who catches you." They both nodded, looking grave.

"Thanks Harry."

He nodded and fled up the stairs after that. He heard them talking in hushed tones as he left. He swallowed and hurried up to his dorm. He opened the door quietly and leaned against it once it was closed behind him, sighing. He listened to the sounds of his sleeping roommates, and heard the stairs creak behind him as the twins headed up to their beds. He closed his eyes and then moved to his own bed, collapsing on it fully clothed and just barely thinking to close the curtains around him. The chain around his neck clanked as he hit the bed and he fingered it, annoyed. Creating it had been a blast, it was a work of art really, and he knew it was necessary, but damn did he hate the thing.

He wished he didn't have to wear it, that he could walk around as he was and that no one would care. But that was impossible now. He wondered how everyone would feel if they found out. Sirius had thought it was cool, and he imagined Ron would probably react much the same way. Hermione would probably panic, and then go and search for ways to fix him. Maybe she would succeed too, finding something that no one else had ever managed to. But if everyone knew, it was likely the ministry would throw him in Azkaban.

After all, if people saw how his body had changed they would just call him a freak, but if they found out his animagus form was a dark creature, they'd call him the next Voldemort.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

**ligatae lingua- tongue tied**

**Qui venit in mentem quid ibi linguam custodiat. Iureiurando obligare ad magiae te, et custodiat semper tibi concedo- He who comes in the language of the mind, what is there, observe. Bind an oath unto thy magic, and keep ye always my secrets.**

**Accipimus sacramentum tantum, integrum restituere digneris- I accept this oath fully, and deign to keep it.**

**Concedo. Sic fiat- I agree. So be it.**

**Sic fiat- So be it.**

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**


	3. Part One, Chapter Two

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

I would like to take a moment to inform you, that this story is broken up into Parts (not including the Introduction) and that, at this time, the entire first Part (consisting of 8 chapters) is already written. I am currently working on Part Two, and I would like to warn you now that Part One goes pretty quickly. There are several time jumps made up of days, weeks, or months, so what's written is only little flashes into Harry's life. Part Two should be longer and hold more content, because that's when we start to get more into my planned plot. Basically, Part One is mostly just set up for the proper story, but I imagine you'll enjoy the read all the same. I know that my story has some overused elements to it, but most of that is needed to push the plot in the right direction, and I hope I've managed to overshadow it with my own twist on things. My plan is to update once a week, though there may be a week and a half or two weeks between Parts. I hope you all stick with this story till the end. Also, there is a poll on my page regarding which Avengers character you think Harry should meet first when we finally begin to move into the Avengers world. Keep in mind that while the result will guide my writing, it might be the second or third best that I pick rather than the winner. If you have any questions regarding pairings, please look at my review responses above. I will let you know if and when I put that poll up, so I would request you not to mention it overly much until then. Thank you for reading.

Also, you all know I don't own Harry Potter or the Avengers, so I won't mention it again after this.

Enjoy.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry snarled, the sound coming out sounding animal and cruel. Rage burned through him unstoppable, flowing through his veins like basilisk venom. He roared and slashed at a tree, his strength nearly tearing it in two. He panted, and then he ripped the clothes from his body and threw the chain at the ground, already changing before it hit. Then he was running, his anger scaring the other creatures in the forest away from him.

He hated Umbridge. He despised her. How dare she? How. Dare. She?! It was Friday, his detention with her having just ended, and it had taken everything he had not to snap and kill her. That she would belittle Cedric's death as she had. That she would dare to harm him in such a way. That she would ban him from Quidditch. That quill was dark. He could feel it. He knew it couldn't possibly be legal, and that it would scar no matter what. Wounds caused by dark magic always scarred.

He had done a lot of research on dark magic once he had learned his animagus form was dark. Sirius had helped, having come from a family well versed in dark magic. It had been a surprise, some of the things he had learned, but it didn't make what Umbridge had done to him any less wrong. He ran, and ran, and ran. Suddenly there was a break in the trees and the black expanse of the lake was before him. He leapt, and barely made a splash as he dove into the water.

The water was like a balm on his soul. Almost immediately the anger began to fade away. His entrance into the water didn't slow his movement, the only difference now being that he steered with his tail rather than his body. Fins, limbs, and thick muscles worked in tandem to push him forwards. He breathed in deep, the gills on the sides of his neck taking in the water like normal air. But it was smoother, cleaner, it felt better to breath beneath the water than above it. He supposed it was part of being an aquatic creature.

He neared the long trees of magical seaweed that filled one side of the lake and he didn't bother to avoid them, diving into their depths and losing himself in the slimy grey-green plants. There were dangerous things in the seaweed, but nothing that would dare bother him. His paws eventually touched the lake bed, his magic letting him cling to it and move just like on land. He slowed then, walking through the seaweed now that he was calmer. He had needed this. He had known he would need the water, but it was amazing to him to see just how much of a difference it made. A calmness filled him like a soft rain putting out a fire. He sighed as he walked, seeing grindylows peeking at him and showing sharp teeth in a nervous sort of way. A small one reached out and touched his flank, jerking quickly away afterwards.

Then another did the same when they found he wouldn't attack them for it, and soon they were clinging to him and following him and making cooing noises. He chuffed at them and they made a rattling noise. He realised after a moment that it was laughter. They followed him until the edge of the seaweed and then let him go on alone, cooing and crying after him. Fish swam around him in groups and alone, his powerful eyes catching the way their fins glinted in the moonlight. A shadow passed overhead and he looked up to see the giant squid traveling across the lake above him. He had no doubt the creature was aware of him but it paid him no mind so he opted to return the favour.

He paused when he saw the edges of the merpeople's village. He had been there only the once during the second task. He hesitated now, recalling Cedric's face, and then pressed onwards. The second task had been difficult, but it was not what he would call a bad memory. The merpeople were not so bad, and he doubted they would attack him in this form.

Indeed they mostly only watched him curiously as he entered their village, looking around himself in wonder. He hadn't been able to really see the world they lived in the last time he'd been here. Most of the buildings were small, and made from stones that seemed to had been molded together with magic, creating seamless architecture that was both beautiful and simple. Everything was framed and decorated with various shells, pearls, plants, and beautiful stones. A musical sound caught his attention and he turned. A merwoman floated in front of him. Her features reminded him vaguely of Narcissa Malfoy, but with shiny scaled grey skin and blue-green hair. She made a musical sound again and he realized she was talking, but he didn't understand.

She seemed to realize this, and tried again in English. She had a strange accent, and he could tell it was very difficult for her to speak it. "Human?"

He blinked at her, realizing they could probably feel his magic. He closed his eyes and called for his magic to change him. His body shifted, bones and organs changing and moving into new positions until he stood before her as he was. Her face showed what looked like surprise, and he didn't blame her. Without the glamours he barely looked human. Even in this form he still had a tail, and scales covered his spine and hips. Patterns of them twisted along his arms and legs, and even his cheeks. His hair was a little too soft, going farther down his neck than usual and seeming more like long fur than hair now. It was held out of his face by two small horns on his temples that were about three inches long in human form, and almost unnoticeable gills still marked his neck. His green eyes looked brighter, and the pupils were slit when it was dark, like it was now. His fingers and toes were tipped by sharp claws, and teeth just as sharp revealed themselves when he smiled nervously at her.

He remembered when he first looked in the mirror after the last of the changes. He could still see himself. His features were not so changed that the normal, human Harry could not be seen in him now. He did not see a stranger in the mirror. If anything, he had seen a stranger before the changes. He thought nothing of standing naked in front of the merpeople. Their kind never mixed with humans, and felt no attraction to them. The parts didn't match up besides that. They didn't care, why should he?

A few more of them came near him. The merwoman drifted close enough to run a hand along his cheek and finger one of his horns. She stared at him for a moment and then smiled and drifted away a bit. Many of them spoke now. Their voices were like music given a voice, beautiful cords of an instrument he could not name. They swam near him, some touching him, others not, and then he felt a tug on his hair. He turned to find a small merchild. It was a little girl, near as he could tell, and she presented a flower to him. It was a beautiful thing. Like a lily with wide, rounded petals, but it was a blue that shifted and sparkled and shone, the small bits that stuck out of it that he couldn't remember the name of were a gorgeous silver. He had never seen anything so blue, and he accepted it delicately.

The little merchild grinned with teeth as sharp as his own, and then swam away, and left him to the mercy of the rest of her people.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

He had remained in the lake for hours, being led about the underwater village and shown everything. They had spoken to him almost constantly, even though he couldn't understand them. He had been glad to learn the flower the little one had given him didn't appear to be particularly special or rare, as they had passed an entire field of them during the impromptu tour. It was still pretty all the same, and when he had snuck into his dorm he had placed it in a transfigured bowl of water on his bedside with a preservation charm he had learned in Herbology.

Now it was finally the first weekend of the week, and he had been left to his own devices while Ron and Hermione went off to Hogsmeade. He hadn't been lying when he said he would need the time for studying, though not all of it was for school. He looked down at the occlumency book in front of him and turned to the chapter about controlling emotions. He needed to get a handle on his temper. He couldn't afford to get so angry every time he saw Umbridge. If he did, he would no doubt end up doing something he very much regretted.

He sighed as he read. He wanted to go back to the lake and the merpeople there. They had liked him because he was interesting, because he was himself. He didn't even think they recognized him from the tournament. They had smiled and treated him kindly and tried to speak with him even though he could not understand them. The ones that had not led him about had smiled as he passed them and nodded or waved. He had been welcomed there as though he belonged. They had even fed him some of the best fish he had ever eaten, leading him to discover that he enjoyed it much more than the deer and rabbit he hunted in the forbidden forest.

He felt he could almost abandon it all and live there with them. He closed his eyes and set down the book, rubbing his face. He couldn't do that. He could never do that. Maybe one day when Voldemort was dead he could live with them for a time, but he could never leave the surface world, the wizarding world, behind forever. He swallowed. He had never thought about after before. After Voldemort, after Hogwarts, after. It was never something he had considered previously.

He did so now, asking himself what he might do. Staying with the merpeople for a time would be nice if they allowed it. But then what? Become an auror? No. It would be to hard to keep the animagus debacle a secret then, and he didn't want a life of danger forever. Trouble just found him, he didn't want to be someone who went looking for it. So something else then. Maybe he could travel. He had never seen much of the world and it would be interesting to do so. To learn about other wizarding cultures and magics. Surely they didn't all use latin spells and wave wands. Yes, that would be fun. He could see the world and what it had to offer him.

But what would he do after that? He couldn't travel for the rest of his life. He would eventually need to settle down someplace, and he wasn't the kind of person who could laze the days away. So he would need a profession of some sort. Something to do once he had seen everything he wanted to see. Someplace quiet might be nice, but he was so used to the chaos of Hogwarts that maybe somewhere with a little more hustle and bustle would be better. A city then, but maybe a quieter area of that city. So he could go into the hustle and bustle when he wanted without having to be stuck in it constantly.

But where? And what about his friends? And the Weasleys? And Sirius? Would he just leave them all behind? Or would he visit often? Or live somewhere near enough for them to visit him? What country would be best? And he still didn't know what he wanted to do for a living. What kind of job would be good for him?

He groaned. Contemplating his future was a far more difficult task than he thought.

"Hello there, Harry." He jumped in his seat and then looked up. Both of the twins stood in front if him, identical grins on their faces.

"We have come to you this fine day,"

"To whisk you away to a secret location,"

"And we will do so,"

"Whether you come willingly,"

"Or not."He blinked. They were still smiling, but their inner animals looked much more serious. Did they want to make sure he hadn't told anyone? He had barely thought about what he'd seen, let alone spoken of it.

"All right," His voice was hesitant. "Just let me put my books away." They nodded their assent, and he gathered up his books into his school bag. He intended to take it up to the dorm, but before he was able to their were freckled hands gripping both his arms and he was being dragged away with a twin on each side.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

They took him up floor after flood until the seventh. Then they led him to a tapestry of a sleeping dragon and Fred scratched its' chin and whispered something. The tapestry rolled up and the stone wall beneath began to shuffle about until a doorway was revealed in a manner reminiscent of the entrance to Diagon Alley. There were stairs directly beyond the door and they pushed him ahead of them so that he headed up it. He couldn't recall ever being in this corridor, but he was quite certain there was no eighth floor, and he couldn't recall a tower in this area. A peculiarity of magic perhaps?

He looked around in interest once he had reached the top. It was a round room with various soft rugs and comfortable looking couches. There was a fireplace, and two closed doors on the walls, and a table with what looked like school books and notes on it that had two chairs at it, one being an old mahogany beast, and the other a delicately carved oak. The entire room was a mix-pot of styles and different colors and patterns, but everything seemed to flow and work together well. It felt homey, and he wondered what the rooms beyond the doors looked like.

"What is this place?" He hadn't realized he had asked it aloud, or even walked to the middle of the room until the twins responded to him.

"We found it our second year."

"Turned it into a home away from home."

"No one knows about it,"

"And it's not on the map."

"We live here during the year."

"Hardly ever sleep in the dorms."

"Usually only stay there during the first couple weeks."

"After that we spend our nights here."

"It's ours, but now,"

"We're giving it to you." He stared at them. They were giving it to him? What in Merlin's name...?

"Wha- Why?"

They looked at each other a moment, an entire conversation seeming to take place between them. Then they turned back to him and motioned for him to sit. He chose a red armchair facing a floral-patterned gold and brown couch, which the twins sat on. The chair was even more comfortable than it looked, and it calmed him.

"We're planning on leaving this year." He blanched and stared at George. "Thanks to your investment, we have enough money to start our business. We've already bought the building in Diagon, and it has a flat above it we'll live in."

"We don't need to stay here. That Umbridge woman is horrid, and she'll only get worse. We can owl the ministry to take our Newts, we don't have to stay here for that." Fred looked a bit unsure as he spoke, but George nodded confidently with everything his brother said.

"Once we're gone, we'll have more privacy in the flat. It'll be easier then. We hadn't planned to tell anyone about this place. We were just going to leave it. Let the next person discover it on their own like we did. But then..." George faltered a bit and Fred continued for him.

"You saved our sister's life her first year. You gave us the money we needed. You found out our secret and you kept it. And we know you sneak out at night. This place has a tunnel," He gestured towards one of the doors. "In the bedroom. We haven't figured out how it works, but it leads out to just inside the forest. The wards on this room will only let someone into and out of that end of the tunnel if they've slept a full night in this place. We can teach you how to change the password on the tapestry, even how to change the picture if you want."

They were both quiet after that, and for a moment he just stared at them, and then at the room around him. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it a moment later. He couldn't say they didn't owe him anything, because they would insist they did, and he couldn't say he didn't need the rooms, because it would be great to have some place he could walk around without the chain in, and a way to get in and out of the castle without having to sneak through the whole thing. They hadn't even asked him why he snuck out at night, just stated it like it was a fact, which it was. He couldn't even convince them not to leave before graduation. He knew them well enough to know if they had decided on it, then they would be too stubborn to change their minds.

So instead he only nodded, and their grins were blinding.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The next few weeks went on in a similar manner. Runes and ancient studies became Harry's favorite classes, arithmancy and defense against the dark arts were as dreaded as potions, and he spent his weekends studying, spending time with the twins in their hidden rooms, and visiting the merpeople. Snape seemed to have taken an interest in his childhood, for the memories he invaded during their lessons were often of those times; and while Harry had gained much more control over his emotions, he hadn't made as much progress in protecting his mind. He could push Snape out only when the man was holding back, otherwise he only seemed to only be able to throw him into memories other than the one he wanted. It was useful all the same, because constantly showing someone inconsequential memories rather than what they wanted to see could frustrate them enough that they left your mind alone. But it was still not true occlumency, just a poor imitation.

He found himself drifting apart from Ron and Hermione as the relationship between the two grew, though he had become better friends with Luna and Daniel. He no longer knew where he stood with the other two thirds of the golden trio, and was reluctant to admit to himself that while they were still his friends, he no longer considered them his closest ones. He had taken to owling Sirius once a week or so, writing in simple muggle code and calling him by Snuffles in case his mail was ever intercepted.

Now it was nearly Christmas, and the winter break was fast approaching. He stood in the forest, snow beneath his bare feet, and he was hardly surprised that the cold didn't bother him. He might have scales, but he wasn't cold-blooded. The opposite in fact, as his blood ran at a temperature hot enough to melt the snow around him if it spilled. The real mystery was how he didn't die in the heat. He breathed in deep and then let it out, watching the visible breath fly away from him like thin smoke. He smiled and sat down. His chain was off now, so he could be himself. When the twins were gone he would have a place to be himself inside the castle rather than just outside of it. It was lucky he didn't have to worry about Rita Skeeter anymore, since a bug could easily see him in this form and get away before he could stop it. He would sense anything larger coming.

He sighed and drew circles in the snow. Ron and Hermione were off again. He had been invited to the Weasley's for Christmas, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go. On the one hand, he could spend more time with the twins, and Bill would be there, so he could see about getting those notes since Ron seemed to have forgotten, but on the other hand he knew Ron and Hermione would run off without him again and it would be so much harder to keep his secrets when he would be sharing a room with other people where the beds didn't have locking curtains. He rubbed his temple, only to freeze when he heard a growl.

Instantly he shifted, and where once there was an unusual boy, a beast now stood. He looked around him, but even his keen eyes could see nothing, so instead he listened. There was breathing, and another threatening growl to his right, so he turned to look in that direction and gave a warning sound. But rather than leaving like he had hoped, it came out of the trees and bared its' teeth at him.

He swallowed nervously. It was a wyvern. He hadn't even known they occupied this forest. He was much larger in height than it, but it was longer, its' dark orange body like a snake. It would be better if it was a snake, he thought. At least then he could control it. But wyverns were no relation to serpents despite a similar appearance, and they did, in fact, hate snakes. It hissed at him and crouched towards him.

He showed his teeth and let out a more threatening growl, the sound deep and guttural, but that only seemed to anger it. Before he could back away, it pounced. He was moving before it hit, but still its' claws grazed his side and he hissed in pain, swatting at it and knocking it away. It hit a tree and righted itself. He kept his own claws in, not wanting to kill it, but it seemed to realize that. It was attacking him again and it bit at him, trying to aim for his neck. He snarled angrily and slashed across the creature's stomach instinctively. It retaliated by wrapping around him and then they were tumbling as he struggled to get it off, his back feet clawing and pushing at it desperately.

They landed with him on his side, and he felt a crunch beneath him. He wondered if it had broken a bone. It didn't act like it however as it began to constrict around him like a python. He managed to get his jaws around part of it and he gave a final warning as it grew tighter, putting pressure against his lungs and taking away his ability to breathe. It ignored his warning, so he bit as tightly as he could. He knew his jaw strength was great, even more so than a crocodile, and the creature screeched as his teeth clamped down.

He felt hot blood flow into his mouth that tasted like rotten fruit and he gagged but didn't let go. His teeth sank through flesh and organs, and he felt bones crunch inside his mouth. The wyvern squirmed for a few moments and screamed but then fell still and silent. He shuddered and let it go, backing away and changing back to human form. He stared at the bloody mess that was the wyvern and gagged, letting his lunch go in the snow. He heaved until there was nothing left but stomach acid, and then he stood up, hunting for his clothes and chain. Wyverns lived in packs, and he felt it best he leave the forest before anymore appear.

He found his clothes easily enough, and his robe, but the chain was nowhere to be found. Then, finally, the glint of metal caught his eyes and he looked closer. His stomach filled with dread. His chain was there, sure enough, but it was in pieces, shattered like glass. For a moment he only stared. Then he gathered up the pieces as quickly as he could, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes as he ran. He had spent one weekend with the twins in their room. With any luck he could slip in and they wouldn't be there.

He pushed himself, moving through the trees like a blur. He recalled the crunch when he had fallen to his side, and he realized now it had not been the sound of the wyvern's bones breaking, but the sound of his chain breaking. He would need to make a new one. But first he would need to sneak into the castle, and then find some material to work with, and some space to work in. He was better with the runes now. He should be able to manage without Sirius' help. He was at the entrance to the tunnel before he knew it, an old tree with grayish bark and black leaves. He knocked on a spot near its' roots, then ran a hand down the front of the tree's trunk. It seemed to shudder, and then two of the roots split apart and revealed a hole. He dove into it, and as the roots clasped together he heard the far off screech of a beast, and knew the wyverns had found their dead kin.

The tunnel was a long dirt affair that seemed to go on forever before it was suddenly stone. Steps appeared before him and he leapt up them. It was a narrower space now, with stone walls on either side. He had discovered the first time through that he could hear things from behind the stones, as this path ran literally through the walls of Hogwarts; between classrooms and even the Slytherin and Ravenclaw dorms. The narrow corridor split in three and he kept down the middle. The twins had told him there were paths branching through all of Hogwarts, and that they occasionally used the tunnels to spy on people.

Two more junctures and many more stairs were passed before the corridor widened out again, and then he stood in a tiny stone room with a ladder. He slowed down, climbing the ladder in silence and he pressed his ear to the wood above him when he reached the top. He listened for a moment, and, hearing nothing, pushed up. The trap door cracked open and he peaked through. He could see no one, so he slowly pushed it open, the door making a soft tap as it opened completely and rest on the floor. He snuck in and closed it just as carefully. He stood now in another room the same size as the one below it, but with a wooden floor and a small door on one side that he fit through almost perfectly, but which the twins had to duck to get through.

Like the trap door, he listened first before cracking it open and going through. It closed and was a nearly seamless thing against the wall. The only thing that marked it was a torch holder on this side that you had to pull on to open it. He stood in the bedroom now. A huge four poster bed was the centerpiece, with its' dark red and soft brown comforters and sheets, and the lighter red pillows that seemed endless. There was a wardrobe on the wall to the right of it that stood directly across from the door he had come through. Then there was a bookshelf, and another, more noticeable door that led to a small bathroom. The wall across from the bed curved into the room, and the door on that wall led into the circular living area. He leaned against it, listening, and heard nothing. Relieved, he didn't bother to peek into it before opening it.

He swung the door wide open, and came face to face with the twins.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry sat in the same red armchair as before, tail twitching nervously across his legs. He pulled at his robes, looking at the redheads across from him.

"So, let me get this straight. All, this," George gestured to Harry and his changes. "Is because you messed up the animagus transformation, and you've been wearing glamours since the beginning of the year?" He nodded.

"And what, exactly, is your animagus form?" Fred looked at him incredulously.

He hesitated, and then sighed. "It's called a Mishipeshu."

"A me-she what?"

"A mishipeshu. They're also called underwater panthers." He paused. "They're dark creatures." Realization seemed to dawn on them then.

"So that's why you kept it a secret! The ministry always says if someone's animagus form is dark, it means the wizard is dark."

"They'd toss you in Azkaban for that!"

He nodded. "I know." They all looked very grave for a moment, and the twins looked to each other. They did this often, seeming to have full conversations without ever speaking. Then Fred nodded, and George turned to him.

"We won't tell anyone, mate."

"We'll take it to our grave." He smiled in thanks, and the feeling of doom that had come over them faded away. "So..." He blinked at Fred. "What kinds of creature is an underwater panther anyways?"

And Harry laughed.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The twins managed to help Harry find a metal band that worked well enough as a magical conductor for him to carve the appropriate runes into it. He was left with a clasped bracelet on his left wrist. It wasn't as strong as the chain had been, and it wasn't as effective either. The scales along his spine and hips were still very much visible beneath his clothes, and his teeth looked a little sharper than they were supposed to. It would have to work though. It was unlikely that anyone would notice his teeth, and he could keep the rest hidden from sight with clothing.

He needed to get a proper replacement from Sirius. The chain had been made out of some sort of material that conducted magic excellently and amplified the power of the runes. He would need the same material to get the same effect, although this time they would put an unbreakable charm on it, so that what had happened in the forest would not be repeated.

"A mishipeshu, or underwater panther, is a dark creature native to Africa, and certain regions in China." He looked up. Fred and George had insisted on borrowing the book he had on rare creatures and Fred was reading the section on underwater panthers aloud. "They used to be common in America, but the encroachment of muggles upon their territories has forced them to migrate into other areas. It is believed that a small number of them still exist in Canada."

George looked over his shoulder and continued. "The underwater panther is also known as a water cat, night panther, or shadow lion. They are aquatic creatures, with gills on the sides of their necks, webbed paws, and fins on the side of their legs, shoulders, and tails. They are very fast, and have the ability to live on land when there is no available freshwater ecosystem capable of supporting them."

"Their most noticeable features include the scales that adorn large portions of their bodies, the curved row of spikes that runs down the entirety of their spine, and the large horns that adorn their temples and face away from their heads. The purpose of these horns is unknown, as they run parallel to the head and neck, and as such are not useful as weapons."

"Underwater panthers come in various colors ranging from black, to red, to even blue, though the most common color appears to be a reddish brown. They occasionally have manes like lions, usually of a darker shade of color than their body. They are large in size, often up to-" George sputtered. "Five meters from their feet to head when standing!"

"Merlin! You must be huge!" Harry chuckled.

"Yea. Sirius measured me once. I'm something like three and a half meters right now, but we think I might get bigger. Sirius was smaller before as a dog, but he got bigger when he got older, so we figure it'll probably be the same with me."

"**Wicked!**" He shook his head. It was still strange to him when they spoke in tandem, especially since he had long since learned just how different they really were. They grinned at him and then turned back to the book. He rolled his eyes. They thought the whole thing was great, and were determined to know as much about his animagus form as he did. Their reasoning had been that they could better protect his secret that way, but he was sure it was just because they thought it was cool.

"Mishipeshu are classified as dark creatures for their ability to use chaos magic, which is a dangerous and volatile form of magic, and their power over snakes. It is believed that the first parseltongues gained the ability to speak the snake language by having the speech granted to them by an underwater panther."

"Chaos magic?"

Harry nodded. "I don't really know anything about that. I've never tried to use any magic in my animagus form except internally, like using it to cling to the bottom of the lake or helping me move faster. We couldn't find anything in the Black's library about it, but there's a lot of books there. Sirius has kept looking, but he hasn't found anything yet. So I've been careful about using magic in that form. I don't want to accidentally use chaos magic without knowing what it is."

George frowned. "I've never heard of chaos magic." His twin nodded in agreement. He looked at Harry. "We could help you research it if you want. There might be something in the library."

"I'd appreciate that. I haven't really been able to look into it. My schedule is kind of full this year, and the time I don't spend with you two, or studying, I've been spending at the lake. I need to go into the water at least occasionally or I start getting really stressed out."

"Even in human form?" He nodded.

"Yea. More than just my body was changed by everything. I eat more fish at mealtimes than anything else now, I love the water more than I used to, and if I don't watch myself I'll snarl at people who make me mad. Surviving Umbridge's classes without killing the woman has been hell."

Fred nodded. "That makes sense. It stands to reason that something like this would change you on the inside instead of just the outside. Have you noticed anything else that's changed?"

He shrugged. "Just little things mostly. Not anything else too big." The Fred-fox looked at him curiously and he almost smacked himself. "Oh! And the animals!"

"Animals."

"Um, well, I think it's from the botched transformation instead of my animagus form itself, but, well, everyone has an inner animal right? It's what they become when they turn into an animagus. Well, I can see them, the animals, I mean. They look like these single-colored ghosts that kind of cling to the person they 'belong' to."

They looked excited. "Really?"

"Yea. I haven't figured out what the colors mean yet, but the animals themselves seem to match up with a person's personality. At least so far as I can tell."

George grinned. "So that's how you tell us apart! Our animals are different!" Harry chuckled and nodded.

"So what are they then? We haven't done the animagus thing yet, we didn't really have time with all the preparation for our shop." Harry smiled at him, feeling a twinge of sadness at the reminder that they would be leaving soon.

"Well, yours is a fox, and George's is a hyena. I was kind of surprised they were so different before I got to know you two." Fred grinned and Harry heard him mumble something about foxes. The ghostly creature itself was running about and yipping happily.

"What in Merlin's name is a hyena?" The look on George's face was so confused, Harry couldn't help but break down laughing.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Life went on undisturbed for a while, and while Harry's classes grew harder in preparation for O.W.L.s, he reveled in the calm. Hermione bullied him into doing an interview with Skeeter for the Quibbler, and since then he got many less dirty or frightened looks from other students. Daniel commented one day about how fickle people were, and privately he agreed. Snape's lessons grew away from his childhood and more towards his relationships with his friends. It made him nervous, because he worried soon Snape would go hunting for secrets.

Before he knew it, it was winter break, and he was sharing a compartment with the twins, Ron, and Hermione, on their way to King's cross to meet Mrs. Weasley and head to the burrow. Ron was going on about how Bill would be there for the first time in ages, and Harry noted absently that he idolized his older brother.

"-And he'll be staying in the twin's room, and you can bunk with me like usual-"

"Actually, little Ronniekins, Harry will be staying with us." Ron started as George cut in, having not expected it. The twins had been unusually quiet thus far.

"Yea. We've got business to discuss with little Harry, so we're stealing him away."

"Bill can bunk with you." Ron seemed excited by the prospect, but Hermione narrowed her eyes at them.

"What kind of business, exactly?" They smirked at her and spoke in tandem.

"**Nothing you need to worry your pretty little prefect head about.**" She shivered, put off by their synchrony, and let it go. Harry stared for a moment, wondering again just how many people underestimated the twins. They were positively Slytherin!

The door opened then, and Harry smiled when he saw Daniel. "There you are Harry! I've been looking all over for you!" Harry chuckled.

"I haven't exactly been hiding, Danny." The boy huffed and crossed his arms in a way that looked so much like Hermione that he was certain Daniel was secretly making fun of her. The effect was ruined only once he stuck his tongue out.

"Who're you?" Harry looked at Ron, his eyebrows raising. Ron's eyebrows were scrunched together, and the Ron-dog was growling. Danny blinked at him and then grinned in a way that showed just a bit too much teeth, the Danny-salamander hissing in a threatening manner.

"Daniel Curtis. Pleasure. You must be Ron. Harry's talked about you." He offered a hand, but Ron didn't accept it.

"Funny. He's never mentioned you." Harry swallowed and decided to but in. What was with all the hostility?

"Danny's in my ancient studies class. I do group work with him and Luna." He paused. "He's a good friend." Daniel smiled in a way that was almost smug and Ron outright glared.

Danny seemed to have finally noticed the other occupants in the compartment, who had all been watching events unfold curiously. He smiled warmly at Hermione, making her blush and Ron's glare harden. "You must be Hermione Granger. Harry talks about you too. The smartest witch in your year."

She smiled back at him and took his offered hand, seeming pleasantly surprised when he kissed it rather than shook it. "Nice to meet you, Curtis."

"Daniel, please." She nodded and he turned to the twins. Harry watched Ron warily, as he was almost vibrating in his seat with fury. "And you two are Fred and George if I'm not mistaken. I'm sorry to say that I can't tell the difference between you. I apologize if that offends you." They grinned and shrugged in tandem.

"It's alright." Fred offered, taking the lead for once. "Our own mother can't tell the difference between us."

"The only person who can tell us apart is Harry." That seemed to catch the attention of everyone.

"You can tell them apart?!" Ron looked incredulous, and Harry laughed, though more with relief than amusement. His temper was practically legendary in Gryffindor, and the last thing Harry wanted was for a fight to break out between his friends.

"Yup." He pointed at George. "That's Gred." Then Fred. "And that's Forge." The twins and Danny started laughing, Hermione giggled, and Ron pouted.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Daniel, as it turns out, had stopped by their compartment to see if Harry wanted to spend part of the holidays with him and his family in America. The invitation had pissed Ron off all over again, and he had fumed even after Danny left once Harry had politely declined. They had arrived at the station, Hermione leaving with her parents, and the boys with Mrs. Weasley, and now they were at the burrow. Ron was still irritated even now, and Harry had no idea how to go about fixing it. It seemed that Ron and Danny had had an instant dislike for one another. He hoped it didn't go too far, because he hated the idea of being asked to take a side between two friends.

"Hey there, you must be Harry." He looked up, and blinked. Ron had often spoken of Bill Weasley, and his accomplishments, job, and how he'd been head boy. Harry had often imagined a slightly more laid back version of Percy. So the man who stood in front of him was a surprise.

"Bill Weasley?"

The man grinned. "The one and only." He was tall, like the twins, but with more muscle. His hair was long, held in a ponytail similar to Danny's, and one ear was pierced, a claw of some sort hanging from it. His eyes were a brighter shade of blue than any of his brothers, and he was dressed casually in trousers, a loose shirt, and boots Harry vaguely recognized as being made from dragonhide. He held his hand out to Harry, and his grip was firm, with calloused hands when Harry shook it. "Nice to meet you. Ron tells me you take ancient studies?"

Harry nodded, feeling more comfortable. "Yea. I signed up for it because of the ritual and rune work but so far the whole class has been a blast." Bill grinned and sat in a chair next to Harry at the kitchen table.

"You're taking it for the runes? Are you in the runes class too, then?"

"Yea. It's brilliant. I'm good at them, and it's fascinating how such little symbols can do so much and have so much power." He blushed then, realizing how much like Hermione he sounded. Bill only chuckled in amusement.

"Don't be embarrassed, kid. It was one of my favorite classes too. I'll admit I was never a natural at runes, but I was still better than most. I was actually the opposite of you though; took the runs class to help with ancient studies."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

Bill rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, ancient studies is a gateway class. You have to pass it to be able to take the advanced class and beginners spellcrafting, and you have to pass both of those to be allowed into the advanced spellcraft class, wandless magic, or the warding class. I never took the advanced spellcrafting class or the wandless magic class, but I needed the warding class to qualify for a cursebreaking apprenticeship in India."

Harry's eyes widened. "Really? I didn't know about that. I wonder how come more people don't take it?" He mumbled the last part, but Bill still heard him.

"Well, ancient studies is an easy enough class, but all the later ones are much harder. Spellcrafting is the art of actually creating your own spells, and that's not exactly a walk in the park. It requires manipulation of raw magic and a lot of imagination. A lot of people can't do it. It's really a very rare practice these days. The advanced ancient studies class goes into a lot of old foreign magic and history, and people here don't really care about countries outside Europe. Warding itself is extremely difficult for some people. It's kind of like flying. You have to be born with a talent for it or you're never gonna be any good. Most people don't wanna take all those classes only for the professor to tell them they're pants at warding."

"What about the wandless magic class?"

"Hardly anyone ever takes it. If I remember right, it's about using other focuses to do magic, rather than a wand. I think he also teaches how to do magic without a focus at all but that's pretty taxing on your core. Everyone uses a wand, so I don't think anybody really feels like they need to know how to do anything without one. Besides, if you get comfortable enough with a spell, you can eventually cast it wandless. I work in the desert a lot and there's spells for camping and keeping from getting sunburned that I can do wandless just because I've done them so many times."

Harry nodded in understanding. "So basically... You're saying people are just lazy?"

And Bill laughed.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry sighed that night as he settled into bed. His glamours were down and the twins had placed a million different locking charms and traps on the door, so he wasn't worried about being caught. They had a bunkbed, and an extra mattress had been laid across the floor next to it for him. He was thankful to them for keeping his secret, and he was relieved to have someone besides Sirius to talk to about everything. There was a difference between sending letters back and forth to someone, and being able to speak with them face to face.

Worry filled him at the thought that they would be leaving Hogwarts soon. He would be alone again then, with no one who knew his secret that he could be himself around. He turned over, facing away from the twins and curled up, sadness filling him as he finally realized what he had been feeling since they first told him their plan.

He was lonely.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry stared at the monster before him.

"Kill the spare!"

"NO! CEDRIC!"

Harry woke up shaking and gasping for breath. "Harry? Are you ok?" George stood above him, an arm on his shoulder, his twin right behind him. Harry realized he must have shaken him awake but he didn't care right now. He opened his mouth to say he was fine, to wash away the worried looks on their faces. But he realized it wouldn't work. They wouldn't just believe him like Ron or Hermione. And he wasn't fine. Guilt and grief crashed through him in waves, slamming into him and his frail grip on control. He never stood a chance of holding on. A horrible sort of feeling warped itself inside his stomach and he let out a sob before he could stop it.

Then he was crying and raging and pouring his grief and guilt out into barely discernable words, and two sets of arms were wrapping around him and two lips were making words and noises of comfort. It was like he had built up a dam inside of himself and made the base out of sand. And now, finally, the water it was holding back had washed the sand away and the whole thing came crashing down. He shook with tears and Fred and George held him close and told him it wasn't his fault and everything was going to be alright.

And for all the times he had said those things to himself and not believed them, he believed the twins, because, he realized, they had never once lied to him.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry groaned as he awoke. The sleep in his eyes made the lids stick and he rubbed at them. For a full night's sleep he felt awfully exhausted, and hungry for that matter. He flopped down, going limp again. Food could wait. He was tired, and damned comfortable. The covers were wrapped snuggly around him, and though they were heavier than usual, they were very warm. He cuddled into them and they started to shake, laughter filling his ears.

"Time to wake up, sleeping beauty." He blinked blearily at what was in front of him, then wiped more of the sleep from his eyes. Finally, he could see properly, and decipher what he was seeing. It appeared that his warm blanket was actually a set of twins, which he was webbed between. His forehead scrunched in confusion, and then his eyes widened as memories of waking from a nightmare returned to him and he looked down with an embarrassed blush. "Hey there, none of that." A hand rubbed his cheek, the owner behind him, and then moved to play with his hair.

It was a strange feeling, being touched like this. He had never had hands run through his hair, and he had never been cuddled like this. The Dursleys had avoided touching him at all costs as a child, unless it was to hurt him. After that the most anyone had given him was the hugs he received from Mrs. Weasley, and that he had come to look forward to. It was a comforting feeling, being held in this manner. It was just for him, he knew. There was nothing more behind it, no ulterior motive, nothing would be expected from him in return.

"You feeling better, Hare?" He blinked. No one had ever given him a nickname before. He was almost certain that Harry was too short for it. Then he disregarded it and thought about the question. _Did_ he feel better? He swallowed and decided that yes, he did. There had been this guilt-ridden weight on his shoulders since Cedric's murder. He had avoided it, avoided thinking about it or acknowledging the nightmares. It had hurt so badly to think about it. He found he could do so now, and that, while it still hurt, it was not so unbearable. The weight was gone now, and he felt better and strangely empty all at once. He actually felt as though he were physically lighter, but surely that was impossible. "Harry?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse, raspy, and he realised only now that his mouth was dry. "I feel better." Fred nodded and smiled at him, and he smiled back. "Thank you." He whispered. Fred only shook his head and pulled him in close, the arms behind him tightening too, and Harry buried his face in Fred's chest and breathed in his smell.

"BOYS! FRED! GEORGE! HARRY! I'LL NOT HAVE YOU SLEEPING IN TILL NOON!" The loud voice made Harry jump, and the twins chuckled.

George let him go and leaned over him so Harry could see his face. "Guess we better get up before she does something drastic." Harry chuckled and reluctantly let his comfortable teddy bears go.

They managed to get dressed and presentable (and in Harry's case, glamoured) with minimal fuss, and were soon marching down the stairs cheerfully enough. Harry found himself glad for getting up when he beheld the feast that was breakfast in the Weasley household and sat down between the twins and across from Bill and dug in. He piled his plate high with eggs and pancakes and sausage, and the cursebreaker chuckled at him.

"Hungry, are you?" He blushed and lowered the forkful of eggs he had been about to eat. "No, no, go ahead. As skinny as you are, I'm sure you need it." This only made him blush more, but he dutifully returned to eating. The twins shared a look over his head. "So, Harry, I didn't have a chance to ask before, but what do you plan to do after school?" Harry paused and then shrugged.

"Well, I wanted to travel for awhile, but after that I'm not really sure. I can't see myself being an Auror or playing Quidditch, but I'm not really good at anything else."

"Bollocks!" Harry looked up at George, who sat on his right side. "What about runes?"

"Yea Hare!" Fred smiled warmly at him from his left side. "You're brill at runes!"

Bill grinned. "Well you could always be a runemaster then. There's a lot of professions that require runes work."

Harry perked up. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yup. There's wandmaking, and warding, lots of different ritual work, metalcrafting, stonelaying, even healing. There's even times where we have to bring in runemasters for cursebreaking. A lot of old tombs have rune protections or inscriptions, so we need runemasters to dismantle or translate them. There's other things too. And plenty of work in the private sector also. A lot of purebloods will pay good money to have a runemaster do work for them."

"Wow." Harry looked at him with wonder. "I didn't realize runes were used in so much."

Bill only shrugged. "Most people don't. Runework is a dying field. There aren't a lot of people who are naturally good at it, and if you're not, then it's really hard to master. It's a challenging field of work, so less and less people go into it."

Harry nodded in understanding. A loud thumping sound made him jump. It was followed by a cursing and then Mrs. Weasley walked out of the kitchen."RONALD WEASLEY! I WON'T TOLERATE THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE IN THIS HOUSE!" Harry, the twins, and Bill all winced. Molly could sure get some volume when she wanted to.

"Sorry mum." Ron wandered into the kitchen then, rubbing at his arm with a grimace, and Mrs. Weasley huffed and returned to the kitchen.

"Morning Ron."

"Morning Harry. Glad to see the twins didn't kill you in an experiment or something." The twins in question both laughed, nothing on their faces showing that anything was amiss, but both of their inner animals growled in anger. Harry swallowed, and wondered how bad of a prank they would play on Ron before dinner was over.

"I think I could handle anything they tried to throw at me." Harry kept his face as blank as possible when Ron's hair turned green as he sat down. Bill smirked, but otherwise showed no notice. Harry had to look down and focus on his food once Ron started eating and his face turned purple.

"If you say so." His words were warped through his consumption of food, and Harry paled at the bits of egg that spewed from his mouth, appetite fading. Trust Ron to ruin breakfast. Bill also looked a little green, but seemed better able to ignore it and eat. Harry supposed he must be used to it. "Hey, you wanna play some Quidditch after breakfast?"

"Um,"

"Actually, we were gonna take Hare down to the lake."

Ron looked at George disbelievingly. "The lake? But that's so boring!"

"I think the lake sounds nice." Ron snorted.

"Whatever you say mate."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

"So why do you two keep stealing me away from Ron?"

They grinned at him and Fred answered. "Caught that did you?" They were walking to the lake, dressed in trousers and t-shirts, robes forgotten for once, and towels swung over their shoulders. The area the Weasleys lived in was nice. There was empty country all around them, and the occasional muggle farm. The twins had told him that a lot of them were owned by squibs, and that they had muggle-away charms around the burrow just in case.

George shrugged. "Don't know if you've noticed, but Ron's been a right prat lately. Ever since he got that prefect badge he's been too big for his britches."

Fred nodded. "He's changed. You don't spend as much time around him as you used to so you wouldn't know, but he's changed. Besides that, with the faulty glamours it'll be harder for you to hide things. If we keep you close to us then there's less of a chance of him finding out."

"Ron's got a big mouth. If he finds out it'll only be a matter of time before he ends up telling someone."

"So all this is just to help me?"

"**Yup.**"

"But... If you keep separating me and Ron, then I won't be able to hang out with him anymore."

Fred clapped him on the back. "Well then that's just more time you get to spend with us."

Harry chuckled, and then stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. He had stopped paying attention to the world around him, and they had arrived at the lake while he wasn't paying attention. It was so different than the lake at Hogwarts that he couldn't help but study it. He was sure it was smaller, probably shallower as well. Where the lake at Hogwarts was banked with river stones and large rocks, this lake was framed by sand banks and cattails. The tall grass of a field next to the lake grew into part of it, and the golden stalks peaked out from the water. It was clearer near the banks than the Hogwarts lake, but the deeper portions were obscured by mud.

He sniffed the air, the weaker glamours not hindering his senses the way that the ones on the chain had. His nose took in the fresh air, and the smell of dirt, fish, and wildflowers. The twins smiled at him and pulled him along to a tree just a little ways away from the bank. It was a tall, crooked thing, and there was a swinging rope attached to it like in an old muggle movie he had seen once. The redheads spread a blanket out underneath the tree and swung their towels over a branch. Harry followed suit.

Then they were stripping down to their pants and one by one they grabbed hold of the rope and swung out over the water. Harry screamed in joy when it was his turn, the moment before hitting the water even better than flying. Then he was diving beneath the waters and his gills began working beneath the glamours. He twisted quickly beneath the surface, not stopping until he had touched the bottom.

He didn't cling to it like at Hogwarts, but rather swam close enough for his belly to rub against the mud. His eyes, unaffected by the water and seeing through it with ease. There were not so many fish here as in the merpeople's domain, and he could tell none of them were magical. But the water felt cleaner to his gills, and it felt good when he smashed his toes in the mud, pushing off the bottom to head back up.

He grinned as his head broke the surface, and sputtered when water splashed in his face. He turned to see a smirking twin and gave a smirk himself.

"Of course you know, this means war."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

About the runemaster bit, I intend for that to be Harry's profession, as it will fit in well with some plans I have for the story later on. This Harry won't be all-powerful or good at everything. He will have his skills, and his weaknesses, and, as the bit with the botched-animagus transformation proves, there will be times where he screws things up and makes mistakes. Big mistakes probably won't occur all too often, but they will still happen, though how they turn out in the end will likely differ. The bit at the end with Harry and the twins was kind of fluffy, but I want this fic to have some happy moments, as there will be a lot of sad or angry ones too, and we need a little fluff before things start to get darker. As for him sleeping with them, no that's not slash oriented, and I will refrain from comment regarding their relationship with each other. I have friends I have no problem sleeping next too, and while this won't be a common occurrence in this story, it might happen occasionally. Sometimes when you're feeling down all you need is for someone to be there for you during the night. I myself have gotten so used to sleeping next to my girlfriend every night that I can't sleep at all when she's not there. If you have questions, feel free to review, and I will endeavor to answer you if I can.


	4. Part One, Chapter Three

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

Regarding the bits with Mrs. Weasley, and then with Luna:

First of all, I'll take no crap for the bit with the Weasley patriarch. I, myself, think that it suits the characters and the story well, and I was always surprised as to why something similar never occurred in canon. As far as the part with Luna goes, I understand that it might seem a bit misplaced, given the circumstances, but it was a necessary evil to get through, as I needed it for the story. All the same, I think this chapter turned out well when I wrote it, so I hope you all enjoy it.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Christmas morning Harry found himself dragged downstairs in his pajamas. The twins were practically vibrating in excitement like small children. Everyone gathered in the living room around a small tree that looked as though the Weasleys had cut it themselves. Bill, the twins, and Mrs. Weasley, all seemed wide awake, while everyone else was bleary-eyed and groaning. Mr. Weasley handed Harry a cup of coffee and he nodded in thanks, sitting back calmly and sipping at it, watching the family around him.

It took a little while for everyone to wake up completely, and soon they were all ready. Harry noticed that Percy was absent from the gathering, and a seat had been left empty for him, a mug of cocoa with a warming charm sitting near it. Every few minutes Mrs. Weasley would glance at the spot and twist her hands in her apron fretfully.

"Alright then, you all know the drill, one at a time. First up," Mr. Weasley picked up a package and looked at the name on it. "Fred and George, first one's yours." He held it out to them and four hands took it and began tearing at the paper. Only Harry noticed the momentary falter in their expressions.

"Alright!"

"This is great!"

"**Thanks Bill**!" The two held what looked like a large book, and Harry peeked from his spot between them to see that the title was on curses. The book was old, and Harry wondered how many of the spells in it were actually legal. They grinned at their older brother and he smiled back, though his expression was slightly off. Perhaps Harry hadn't been the only one to see them falter then.

"Alright, this one's for Ron." And so it went. Each person got one gift at a time, and they cycled through each of them. Harry got his traditional Weasley sweater, an extensive book on runes from the twins, a broom kit from Ron, some rock cakes from Hagrid, and a beginners book on stonelaying from Bill. The man said he had already read it, and thought Harry might enjoy it. He had been shocked to receive a couple of outfits from the Dursleys, which actually appeared to be his size. Sirius had sent him an entire block of the material the chain had been made of, and a book on using magic for manipulating various metals and stones.

He had made sure to get presents for everyone that was here, except for Bill, which made him feel bad but which the man only waved off, and everyone who wasn't here. He had even sent Dumbledore several pairs of colorful socks. He had gotten a few lace tablecloths for Mrs. Weasley, which had made the woman blush in happiness and smile at him in a motherly sort of way that made a warm feeling of pride curl in his chest. For Mr. Weasley, he had gotten a handheld muggle radio, and had even managed to find a shop that had altered the thing to be able to function around magic and even run on it.

He had gotten the twins separate gifts, which had made them look at him strangely, but they had seemed to enjoy them all the same. For George, there had been books on defense and transfiguration, along with one that was all about hyenas. He had rubbed his head in embarrassment when he saw it, but had almost immediately began reading it. For Fred, he had gotten books on charms and potions, and a thick, fuzzy green scarf with a smiling fox embroidered into it in gold. Fred had looked at it wonderingly and then smiled in a way Harry had never seen before, then he had wrapped it happily around his shoulders, and had yet to take it off since.

For Ron he had managed to find a book on the history of the Chuddley Cannons in a discount shop in Hogsmeade. Ginny had received an animated stuffed dragon, that, though childish, seemed to make her very happy. For Hermione, he had spent a few extra galleons for a self-updating Hogwarts: A History that he knew she would love.

Sirius had been a little more difficult to get a gift for, but in the end he had decided on a pet. Sirius had mentioned a few times about being lonely in Grimmauld with no one staying very long and Harry being gone, so he had sent him a tiny little black puppy he thought might be the magical version of a Labrador, along with everything the man would need to care for it. He hoped he would like it.

He had even bought gifts for Luna and Daniel. A book on extremely rare magical creatures and a nice cloak in Hufflepuff colors respectively. He wasn't sure how they would take their gifts, but he didn't know them well enough yet to know what sort of thing might suit them better.

He yawned as he sat on the back porch of the burrow. It was later in the day now, and it was sunny out, surprisingly warm for the season. It seemed to always be warm here. He felt lazy, and was watching the twins, Ron, and Ginny run about catching gnomes. The back door opened behind him and he scooted over so that whoever it was could get by him, but was surprised when they sat down next to him.

"Still tired? Did you sleep alright?" Bill smiled gently at him, and Harry noticed his teeth seemed whiter in the sunlight.

"I slept fine. It's just been a rough few days."

"The twins bothering you?"

He shook his head. "No. Fred and George are great. It's just... Well, I'd rather not talk about it if you can forgive me." He looked down, but Bill only nodded.

"I understand. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to... So... Out of curiosity,"

"Yes?"

"Why did you get the twins separate gifts. Everyone usually just..."

"Lumps their gifts together?" The man nodded and Harry gave a snort. "I gave them separate gifts because they're separate people. They might look almost the same, but on the inside, they're very different."

He blinked. "How so?"

"Well, George is the tough one. He has thicker skin and he's very protective of Fred. He's also more dominant than Fred is, and when they start talking back and forth he's usually the one that speaks first. Fred has more patience, but he's also more mischievous. And they excel in different things. George is good at defense against the dark arts, transfiguration, and care of magical creatures, but he's terrible at charms. Fred is brill with charms and he's pretty decent with potions and herbology, but he can't cast an advanced transfiguration spell to save his life. Besides that, they're not even identical. George has this big freckle right on the tip of his nose, and Fred's eyes are brighter, plus, Fred chews his nails, and George doesn't."

Bill looked at him in awe and he blushed and looked away. "That's incredible. I've always tried to tell them apart but I've never been able to. They act so much alike each other in public, and I've never noticed the differences. No one I know of has ever managed it before." Harry kept his eyes down and only shrugged. Bill laughed. "It's no wonder my family likes you so much Harry, you're quite an amazing person." He clapped a hand on Harry's back, making his face heat up even more, and then went to join his younger siblings.

Harry looked after him with a smile, contemplating how much he loved the red headed family.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry found himself trapped between a set of redheads as soon as he entered the room for bed. The day had been spent lazily, with a family Quidditch match and reading some of the stonelaying book from Bill. He jumped when the twins grabbed him, having thought they weren't yet in the room. They bound him up in a double hug.

"Wha?"

"We heard." He paused, the words having been muffled in his hair, but he thought he understood what was said.

"Heard what?"

"What you said to Bill." The speaking twin pulled away slightly so Harry could see his face and note that it was George. Harry's eyes widened slightly at the words, and he made a small 'oh' sound, unsure of what else to do.

"We wanted to thank you." Fred pulled back a little and smiled at him, and Harry noticed his eyes were watery. "No one's ever treated us like separate people before." The gratitude on both their faces was overwhelming, and Harry felt a lump in his throat that made it very hard to speak.

"Anything you want, Hare. Anything we can repay you with." George looked sincere and determined all at once, and Harry tried to think of what he could possibly want. He gave them a nervous smile and tried to speak past the lump.

"Ca- can you sleep next to me again?" He swallowed. "Like that night I had a nightmare?" Their smiles were gentle and without judgement, and they led him to bed without a word.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Hermione arrived the day after Christmas, and as Harry had predicted, she and Ron were quite happy to pretend the world outside each other didn't exist. Harry spent the next couple of days hanging out with the twins and Bill, and helping Mrs. Weasley cook. She had been reluctant to let him help at first, but had given in, and when he had done well with the small tasks she assigned him, then she had let him do more. He was there now, helping her cook breakfast. They would be leaving for the station not long after everyone was done eating, and Harry knew he would miss the burrow greatly. Molly had been running about the kitchen and seemed to be fretting about something. Harry figured she was probably just upset at the thought of her children all leaving her soon.

"Mrs. Weasley, I think the potatoes are done." She came over and shifted the chopped potatoes in the pan, smashing one with the spatula. It gave way to mush easily enough and she nodded and turned off the burner.

"So it is. Could you put it all on a plate for me, dear?" He nodded and went to the cabinet to find a plate large enough. The Weasley dishware was mismatched and occasionally chipped, and the plate he chose was a tan color and old enough that he wondered if it had once been white. Molly stood near him as he began transferring the potatoes out, twisting her hands in her apron in what he had come to recognize as a nervous habit of hers. She looked as though she wished to say something, and he dealt with the potatoes a bit slowly so as to give her a chance. He was nearly done when she managed it. "Harry, dear?"

He paused in his task and looked up. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I," She hesitated and then seemed to steel her resolve. "I was wondering if perhaps you might consider calling me mum." His eyes widened and his grip on the spatula went slack. She continued on quickly. "That is to say that I'm not trying to replace your mother, rest her soul, but Arthur and I have been talking about it, and we think of you as our own. Of course if you're uncomfortable with it then you don't-" He interrupted her with a hug, clinging to her tightly.

"I would like that. I would like that a lot... Mum." They hugged for a long time, and if her apron was a little wet and he had to wipe his face when he pulled away, well...

That wasn't anybody's business at all.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry yawned and looked out the window of the compartment. The twins had run off with Lee, mentioning how they hadn't spent time with him in a while, and Harry hadn't had the heart to ask to join them. The twins were hardly his keepers, and he felt selfish when he realized just how much of their time he had been monopolizing. Ron and Hermione were off doing their prefect duties or snogging in the bathroom, and so he had been left alone. Almost as soon as he acknowledged that thought, the door slid open. Harry looked up, and was immediately put on edge by the Slytherin who stood there.

"Mind if I join you?" His eyes narrowed. He knew very little about Zabini, besides that he was friends with Malfoy, and that he shared a group with Neville in ancient studies. But Zabini had never directly insulted him or done him harm, so he nodded cautiously. "Thanks." The dark boy smiled at him and sat down on the seat opposite him. Harry was nearest the window, while Zabini had placed himself closest to the door.

The distance calmed Harry, and when the other boy merely pulled out a book and began reading, ignoring Harry entirely, he went back to his watching of the scenery passing by. Several minutes passed in silence, until the compartment door opened again, and they both looked up. It was Luna, and she was soaked through. Harry jumped up and pulled her in, shutting the door behind her.

"What happened to you?"

She smiled. "The nargles seemed to have made it rain inside the train." He couldn't help the growl that came out, knowing Luna well enough by now to know that nargles meant bullies and bad people.

"Come here." He recalled a spell Molly had used to clean up spilled juice and he used it now, waving his wand over Luna, hoping to get it right on the first try. "Evanescant liquida." He nodded in satisfaction when Luna was left dry and motioned at her to sit down. She shivered slightly, and he realised she was likely still cold, so he pulled a cloak from his trunk above them and draped it over her shoulders. She smiled at him, and he sat back down. He glanced at Zabini, and met his eyes. He had an odd expression on his face, and after a moment he returned to his book.

"How are you, Harry? Have the wrackspurts left you alone during the holidays?" He gave her a look, but she only smiled loftily, and he sighed, knowing she would tell him nothing more about who was bothering her.

"I'm fine. Christmas was nice. I spent it at the burrow." His answers were a little clipped, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I'd like to thank you for the book you sent me. I've enjoyed it so far. I haven't finished it yet though. Here." She pulled a package from somewhere, though he wondered where it could possibly have come from when he saw the size of it. It was bigger than a large book, but it wasn't shaped like one, rather it was a lumpy package wrapped in brown paper. "I wanted to give it to you in person."

He took it carefully, and unwrapped it without ripping the paper that reminded him of paper bags at the grocery. He blinked curiously at the many large pieces and straps of something like leather, and what he thought might be black metal that unfurled as it was unfolded. "What...?"

"Wow." He looked up, Zabini was staring at his gift with surprise. The boy scooted closer until he was nearly touching Luna and gestured to it. "May I?" Harry glanced from him to Luna, and she only tilted her head. He nodded, and Zabini gingerly picked up one of the pieces. "Pinnam arma." He whispered the words reverently, and looked at Luna. "Is this dragonscale?"

She shook her head. "Basilisk. Dipped in Irrefragabiles lapis and tempered with dragonfire." He whistled in an impressed way and nodded.

"And the base?"

She smirked this time, and Harry felt alarmed at the thought of it. "Elden bark magically fused with dragonhide and paper steel." This time Zabini outright gaped at her.

"And let me guess, threaded with acromantula silk?"

"Of course."

"Um, I'm a little lost here. What exactly...?"

Zabini didn't look at him like he was stupid as he had expected him to do, but only seemed mildly surprised that he hadn't followed along. "This is pinnam arma. It means feather armor. This set is particularly impressive."

"Feather armor?"

He nodded. "It's called that because it's infused with special charms and runework underneath it that makes it weightless. You wear it under your clothes and it molds to you and flattens out against your skin. This set would be impervious to most magical attacks baring the killing curse and a few other potent spells, and I doubt any physical attack could get through it. You push a little of your magic into the chest piece so it recognizes you as its' owner and protects you."

Luna jumped in then. "It changes in size as you grow, and if you become an animagus," Here she looked just a little too knowing for his tastes. "it will change with you so that it's still there even in your other form. There's seals on the arm and leg bracers that can hold things like your wand and whatever else you like." She looked a lot more focused than usual, the strange clarity making Harry nervous.

"I, this must have cost you a fortune! I can't accept this!" He moved to give it back to her but she shook her head.

"It's been in the family for a while. It only cost me a galleon to get it shined." Her eyes went a little dreamy again. "Me and daddy have no use for it. He was going to throw it away." She smiled. "You can pay me back by wearing it."

"Potter." He looked back to Zabini. "This could be useful to you. It could help the next time you have to face the dark lord."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What do you care for?"

Zabini scoffed. "Not all Slytherins support the dark lord." His voice lowered so that Harry had to lean closer to hear him. "Most only join him to protect themselves. They don't think you can win. If they throw their lot in with the light, and the light loses..." He let the sentence hang in the air, and Harry swallowed, a sharp moment of clarity hit him, and he stood up to hide the armor in his trunk without another word.

Then he sat back down, Zabini returned to his book, Luna returned his cloak and left, and Harry wondered if he had imagined the whole thing.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry watched the Slytherins carefully over the next few days. He didn't focus on Zabini, or Malfoy, but instead, for the first time, he looked upon the house as a whole. And he learned.

They stuck together. During the entire week he didn't see a single Slytherin by themselves. They moved in packs, and often the groups of younger years were accompanied by an older student. There was a system to it, as though it had been carefully planned out (and Harry was certain it had been). If one Slytherin was asked to stay after class, others would wait outside of the room, even if that meant they were all late to their next class and lost points.

He gained understanding when he watched how other people reacted to them. His fellow Gryffindors were always hostile. When there were confrontations, it was always his house that started it. This shamed him, but he didn't pity the snakes. For even though the lions would start it, the snakes would be the ones to finish it, and more often than not, they won. The Hufflepuffs usually acted frightened, but there were some who were as bad as the Gryffindors. Ravenclaws were a toss up. Some were hostile, some were wary, but most of them didn't seem to care. They seemed mostly content to ignore the snakes, who offered the same courtesy in return.

He used the time to try and forget about the armor in the bottom of his trunk, but it remained a burden in the back of his mind. He ignored it for now though, and tried to think of a way to help the Slytherins. If Zabini was right, then they were only taking the mark because they believed Voldemort was going to win. But if the light won, as Harry believed they would, then a lot of the older snakes were going to end up in Azkaban, when all they were really after was protecting themselves and their families. They had no respect for Dumbledore, and would never believe him capable of defeating the dark lord. So he needed to prove to them that he could do it, that Harry Potter would be the one to defeat Voldemort, the one to win. He needed to prove he could. And while he might not have thought himself capable last year, now, after becoming what he was, it wasn't too difficult for him to imagine sinking his claws into Voldemort's guts and ripping him apart.

The only problem was how he would prove it to the Slytherins, and without revealing any secrets.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The first occlumency lesson after the break came before Harry felt ready for it. He had kept up on his meditation, but he was distracted, and had a lot on his mind. He hadn't yet gotten the chance to go to the forest or the lake and so the stress was beginning to get to him. He knocked on Snape's office door to announce his presence, and it swung open. Snape sat at his desk with a scowl on his face, and from the bicorn's behavior he could tell the man was in a terrible mood.

When he sat, Snape flung a box at him, and he caught it clumsily. "That is from our mutual _acquaintance_." The snarl in his voice told Harry his true feelings on the matter, and when he looked at the box and saw that it said 'from Snuffles' he was hardly surprised. He smiled fondly for a moment, but set the box aside when Snape snorted. "If you are ready, we will begin now. I trust you have kept up your studies of the mental arts? Or were you too busy this holiday to bother?" Harry narrowed his eyes angrily but was careful to keep his tone even.

"I've been meditating every day. And yea, I'm ready to start, Snape."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for improper grammar and disrespect. You will use the word 'yes' not 'yea' when in my presence, and you will call me professor. Am I understood?"

Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, _professor_."

"Very well. _Legimins._"

Harry fought the intrusion, but he was distracted, and he couldn't protect his memories as easily. The man rammed through his defenses, and latched onto a memory of Sirius. Harry panicked.

_"It's alright Harry. Everything will turn out ok."_

_"I hate that I have to keep this a secret. Why can't I just tell Ron and Hermione? They'd never tell a soul."_

_Sirius' face softened, and he patted his arm. "Because it's dangerous. If the ministry finds out, and they find out that Ron and Hermione knew, then they could punish them too."_

_Harry whimpered. "So this is all so I don't take anyone else down with me?"_

_"Harry..."_

Harry pulled him from the memory, but the man was persistent, wanting to know the secret, and he latched on to another close memory before Harry could stop him.

_Harry stood before the mirror in the attic of Grimmauld. He was taking in the changes again. It seemed unreal to him, and he knew it would take getting used to. He wore only his pants, and the black scales stood out in sharp relief against his pale skin, his tail waving lazily behind him, scraping along the floor as it went._

_"So does this happen to everyone who forgets to take the animagus safety potion?"_

_"No." Sirius sat at a dusty table behind him, a book in his hands. "Usually the changes wouldn't be so extensive. I think it's because your animagus form is a magical creature that you were affected like this."_

_"Yea." He turned away from the mirror and back to Sirius, a ghostly blue padfoot laying by his feet and panting. "I can't say it bothers me. It feels natural I guess. So have you found it yet?"_

_"I think so. It's a dark creature according to this, but that doesn't mean anything. You'll just have to be careful that no one finds out."_

_He felt queasy at the knowledge. "So what am I?"_

_Sirius turned the book to show him. There was a still painting on the page. The creature looked similar to his animagus form, but was colored a reddish brown with a black mane. It looked out of the pages at him with a snarl. "The Mishipeshu, also known as an underwater panther..."_

With a growl Harry pushed as hard as he could, putting everything he had into it, and then he had pushed Snape out of his mind, and was diving into his. A memory unfurled before him, one that seemed to have been close to the surface, and which Snape couldn't stop him from entering.

_Severus ran for his life, wondering what had possessed him to listen to Black and go to the shrieking shack. He could hear the beast behind him but he didn't dare slow down. With a yelp, he tripped and fell to the ground. He tried to crawl to his feet but a snarl made him freeze. He turned slowly, and looked up into the terrifying visage of the werewolf. The creature leapt, and as the open jaws descended towards him, Severus screamed._

Harry found himself wrenched from the memory and left shaking in his seat. He gasped for breath and he could feel his body drenched in sweat. Across from him Snape didn't look to be faring much better. The man rasped out a call for Timpy and soon the little elf was there and fussing between them, wiping away sweat and making them both drink water. Then she was gone just as quickly, off to get them soup.

They didn't speak or look at each other, even after she returned. They ate in silence, each contemplating what they had seen within the other's mind. It had been strange for Harry to be inside Snape's mind and see something from his point of view. He had 'felt' that Snape hadn't been much younger then than he was now. He had heard the man's thoughts as he had been running, felt the man's terror and anger with himself. And he had recognized the werewolf as professor Lupin. He closed his eyes as he drank his soup, anger with his godfather filling him. He had suspected of course, based on some of Sirius' stories, but now he knew for certain. Sirius, and likely his father, had been bullies. It was no wonder Snape hated them, or that his hate had transferred to Harry. He looked a lot like his father, and Snape probably thought he was just like him.

"I take it you wear glamours, Mr. Potter?" Harry looked up, and met the man's eyes. His face looked tired more than anything else, the bicorn pacing but silent. Then he stood up and removed his cloak, laying it across the back of his chair. He took off the metal band from his wrist and set it on the desk, feeling the minimal glamours fall away. His tail curled around his leg nervously and he watched Snape's face carefully. "Does anyone else know?" Aside from Black? Left unspoken.

"Just Fred and George. I had a better glamour before, but the chain it was bound to was broken in the forest. They caught me when I snuck back into the castle and demanded answers." He pointed at the band. "That one doesn't work as well as the old one, but I've been working on something to replace it."

Snape nodded. "Is it just physical attributes that you've gained, or are there instincts as well?"

Harry shrugged. "Mostly just little stuff. The only big thing is the water. If I don't go into water for too long I get really stressed and start snapping at my friends."

"And how, exactly, have you been combating this?"

Harry hesitated, but spoke anyways. What would it matter if Snape knew now. "I sneak out of the castle on the weekends and go into the lake. The merpeople know about me, and I spend time with them there. It works well enough as long as I don't miss a weekend. Any longer than a week will start to get to me."

The professor nodded and looked down at his desk in thought. It was silent for a few moments, and Harry sat down again, his tail laying across his knees. He ran a finger along the fins that were present near the end of it and then stay still, waiting. Eventually Snape spoke again. "You have not shared this with Dumbledore?" He shook his head. "Why?"

"He has enough to deal with. I didn't want to bother him. There's no fixing this. The changes can't be reversed, and I don't care. I feel comfortable as I am. There's no way to alter a person's animagus form either. It's my problem. I've managed dealing with it just fine so far, and it won't be so difficult after school because I won't be surrounded by people then." Snape nodded, seeming to accept his reasoning.

"You may return your glamour if you like, and proceed to your meditation."Harry nodded, and moved to pick up the band, but hesitated. "Is there a problem Mr. Potter?"

"I... if it's alright with you, now that you know, I'd like to keep it off when I'm here. It's uncomfortable." Snape scrutinized him for a moment, and then nodded in agreement, and with a mumbled thanks, Harry went to sit before the fire.

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"Hermione, no."

"But Harry! That woman is awful! No one is learning anything. You're the best-"

"I said no. I have too much on my plate right now. Classes are getting harder because of OWLS, and I have-"

"Harry, please! If you don't help then no one else will! Can't you at least try? If it's too much then you can quit, but can't you at least try it?"

"But, the Quidditch season just started, and even if I can't play, I still-"

"Harry, please!" She was practically begging now, the look on her face revealing her desperation, and Harry sighed.

"Fine. I'll try. But if I'm going to do this, I'm going to be in charge. It'll be on my terms or not at all." She nodded eagerly, not at all taken aback by his harsh tone.

"Oh thank you!" She hugged him. "I'll gather up a few people and set up a meeting in Hogsmeade for this weekend. Ok?" He sighed, and nodded in acceptance. Now he would have even less free time, it seemed.

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A good number of the students sitting around them looked at Harry as though he was the insane boy the newspapers had been saying he was. They had managed to erect a good privacy ward around the table but Harry could tell already that this wasn't going to be pleasant. These people weren't here because they wanted to learn from him. They were here because they hated Umbridge.

"And why should we listen to him?" It was a Hufflepuff who spoke, but not one that Harry really knew. He scowled. He had noticed something while observing these people. There were no Slytherins. Not a single one. A plan began brewing in his head, one he knew no one was going to like, but he had been trying to come up with something for a while now, and he was running out of viable plans.

Hermione went to speak, and Harry decided it was time to cut in. He glanced at the twins, who sat across from him, and caught their eyes before he began speaking. "Because I can teach you. I think that's at least better than what Umbridge has been doing."

The Hufflepuff gave him a nasty look. "That doesn't mean we should learn from you. The prophet says you're just-"

"So you're listening to what the prophet and other people tell you about me? Are you too stupid to form an opinion on your own?" The boy looked taken aback by his sharp words and he felt Hermione kick him underneath the table, but he didn't care. It had been more than two weeks since he had been to the lake and he was irritable. These people were hardly helping.

He leaned forward. "Let me make something clear. I don't care about you." Hermione kicked him again but he ignored her. "I don't want to do this. I've got enough crap to worry about without teaching a bunch of people I don't really want anything to do with. The only reason I'm even thinking of agreeing to this, is because she," He pointed towards Hermione. "begged me to. I know a lot about defense. I've been taught by a few different people, and not just inside DADA class. I've faced Voldemort a few different times now and managed to get away with my life, which is more than most can say. I don't care if you believe that he's back or not, but he is. If you decide to pretend he's not then be my guest." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "But when the day comes that you come face to face with a death eater and can't defend yourself, I'm not gonna say I told you so. But don't expect me to save your ass, either."

His piece said, he stood up and began to walk away, paying no mind to Hermione or Ron's gaping faces. He heard two sets of feet fall into step behind him and didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. The irritation in him had begun to blossom into anger. He felt hands grab both of his arms and he closed his eyes and let them drag him away. He tried to pull in his anger as best he could as they went. And he listened to the world around him. He heard snow crunch under their feet, then rocks, then wood. They opened a door, and then another. There were stairs, one last door, and then his feet were moving over dirt. They were headed through the tunnel that led to the whomping willow.

Eventually they came out the other end, and were walking on snow again. The snow changed to dirt and dried leaves and he kept his eyes closed until they stopped. They were in a part of the forest that opened out to the lake. He could see the other banks of it from here, but this spot was sheltered. No one was around. He looked behind him at the twins. Fred nodded.

George smiled. "Go on. We'll cover for you." He sighed in relief, then tossed them the glamour band and his clothes, wand, and fake glasses so that he could dive into the lake.

He was shifting almost as soon as he had touched the water, and soon it was a black mishipeshu who was moving through the water rather than a wizard. He purred in contentment, the fire in him going from a destructive blaze to a soft candlefire. He twisted quickly through the water, spinning as he swam so that at times he was swimming upside down. Then his paws touched the lake bottom and he began walking.

He headed immediately towards the merpeople's village, needing the comfort of their undemanding presence. He met a little mergirl along the way, who grabbed onto one of his horns so that she was pulled along with him. She was the same that had given him the blue flower that had yet to wilt, and who had become a friend of sorts during his many visits. Her name was a high musical note that twisted into a low sound. It was beautiful, and he often made her laugh when he tried to repeat the sound. She grinned at him, her teeth not altogether different from a shark and when they entered the village she tugged him in different directions, leading him along.

He smiled inside as the merpeople called out their musical greetings. They had grown accustomed to his appearances, and only the children swarmed him now, often clinging to a part of him as the little girl was doing. She seemed unusually cheerful today, keeping up a constant symphony of twittering notes. She led him to the flower field, and a few of the children twisted off to play in the blue field. He shifted back then, joining them in a game of keep-away using a large orange conch shell.

He played with them for a while, stress nearly forgotten. After a bit his stomach growled and he turned to the little girl. He offered a low, smooth sound to her that he had heard enough to know meant fish, and she stared at him, shock on her face. The laughing of the other children had stopped, and when he looked he discovered they had stopped playing with him and were staring at him. A high, sharp note sounded through the air, and the kids swam away, towards a merwoman with a blue tail that was speckled with gold scales. He recognized her, knowing from his observations that she was the merchief's partner.

She approached him, her face drawn, and watched him a moment before speaking. Then she made the sound for fish. She repeated it a few times and Harry listened in confusion. Then, he copied her, making the sound with a bit of effort. Her face showed surprise, and what he thought was victory, and she grasped his hand gently, leading him away. He let her, confused, but supposed he didn't care too much about the oddity of the situation so long as she fed him fish.

The sight of their leader's wife leading him through the village by the hand seemed to catch the merpeople's curiosity, and many of the adults began following them. A few of them spoke, the words hanging at the ends with lilting tones in what he realized were questions. The chief's wife responded to them, her voice more like brass wind chimes than the flute he had likened the little girl's voice to. Her response was short, a deep note followed by a few soft high notes.

It didn't seem to answer their questions, but only catch more of their curiosity, and more of them began to follow. She led him to the chief, who floated in place near a few other mermen, and was speaking to them in low tones with a voice that made Harry think of a bass guitar. He looked up as they approached, his expression morphing into concern. The other people stopped a couple meters behind them, and Harry and the merwoman went to him on their own. She let go of his hand then, and harry stood there awkwardly, water making his hair move about his face like fuzzy seaweed.

She spoke to the man in low tones and he turned to Harry with a drawn expression. He raised his voice, speaking in fast, drumming notes to the merpeople. Whatever he said seemed to cause them all to speak at once, the musical voices spinning and twisting in the water around Harry and making his head hurt. The chief then raised a hand, and they grew silent. He came close to Harry, until he was close enough to touch, and he looked down at him with judging eyes. He was broader than most of the other mermen, with short green hair that was also different than the typical long haired males Harry had observed. His eyes were a sharp grey that he likened to Lucius Malfoy. The scales of his tail were a combination of green, gold, and orange.

He seemed to have finished observing Harry after a moment, and spoke. Like his wife had, the merman repeated the word for fish a few times and then waited until Harry repeated it. He stumbled over the sound, nervous, and the merman scoffed. Harry's eyes narrowed and he repeated it, louder this time and completely clear. The merman started, and looked more carefully at him. Harry knew his face showed his irritation, but he didn't care. Whispering notes broke out around them, and finally the merman smiled.

The smile eased Harry's irritation, and the chief's wife pulled him to her side. The chief spoke to the crowd of merpeople around them for a few minutes, his voice booming through the water like thunder, and when he finished he waved a hand and the merpeople began to swim away, returning to their business, and speaking with excitement and happiness. The little mergirl lingered, watching him with a smile, but soon swam off as well. Harry found himself led away by the chief and his wife to a large building with shining red stones molded into it in twisting patterns. There was an open archway, curtained with black seaweed, and the chief pushed it aside and entered. Harry and the merwoman followed, and he looked around in interest.

It was the same smooth brown stone on the inside as on the out. There were a few archways, one revealing what looked like a tunnel going downwards. There were giant clam-type shells laid into the walls of a violet shade, and the chief went over to one of them. Some of the stone came up out of the center of the circular room and formed into a raised bowl. There were holes spaced around the rim with seaweed running through them and covering the bowl. Harry looked at it in wonder.

A few soft notes made him look at the merwoman. She looked from the bowl to him with a soft smile and swam over to it. She motioned him to come near, and he did so cautiously. The woman unwrapped one of the seaweed pieces and lifted it out of the way to show him. He looked in and started.

It was filled with five or so eggs. They were each the size of a human baby, and had a soft, baby-blue shell. He stared at them, and felt a warm feeling inside. He understood now, these were their children, their babies, not yet born from their eggs into the world around them. He touched one gently, a soft expression on his face, and the merwoman smiled and pulled him away, retying the seaweed to keep the eggs in place. A drum-like note caught his attention and he looked up.

The chief stood by the shell, which was open, revealing that they were containers. This one held a shiny white plant, similar to seaweed, and the merman pulled a small piece out, closing the shell afterwards. He reached a hand out to Harry, and he came forward. The mermand handed him the plant, and then motioned eating. He looked dubiously at the plant, but felt he would probably offend the man if he didn't obey. It tasted like raspberries mixed with seaweed; certainly not the best thing he'd eaten. He gagged, but swallowed it all.

He soon wished he hadn't though, as a burning began in his throat. He choked, feeling as though a hot poker had been stabbed into his neck. It seemed as though his gills could no longer take in air from the water and he gasped for breath. It was no use, and soon the edges of his vision were going dark. The last thing he felt as the blackness carried him away was hands pulling him down.

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**Evanescant liquida- vanish liquid (a spell to clean spills)**

**Pinnam arma- feather armor (a lightweight but effective armor)**

**Irrefragabiles lapis- unbreakable stone (a meltable stone that is undamageable through nonmagical means)**

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Ok, so, Snape needed to find out. Fred and George, while excellent confidants and friends/brothers for Harry, are not in a position of authority, and there is more that Snape can do to help him than they can. So that's that. On another note, we seem to have a bit of a cliffhanger here, and I hope you'll forgive me for that, but it seemed, at the time, an excellent place to end the chapter. I hope you liked it so far, and I promise to update promptly next Monday.

Have a good week,

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate

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	5. Part One, Chapter Four

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

This was a fun chapter to write when I did it, and I hope you like it. Also, if you haven't yet, then **please vote at the poll on my page**. How that poll turns out will shape the future of this story, and if you want a hand in that, you should vote. Also, I just felt like updating early. Didn't wanna make you lot suffer a whole week with the cliffhanger. I'm thinking of changing update time to every 4-5 days instead of week. We'll see.

Enjoy.

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Consciousness returned to Harry slowly. He found himself able to hear before he could move. The sounds of water and soft voices were captured by his ears, and he drifted in and out for a time. Eventually he awakened long enough to open his eyes, and found the world to be a mass of blackness with far off blue lights. He closed his eyes again, and after a few moments he groaned. A hand touched his head then, and he felt and smelled fish near his lips.

He opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed, only now aware of the burning emptiness in his stomach. He moaned, and whimpered when the fish was gone. More came, and he ate fish after fish until he was full, swallowing them down almost without chewing, as though he were a dolphin. His head felt heavy, and filled with fog, and he couldn't recall much. He groaned.

"Hush little guardian. Rest now."

He blinked blearily up at the voice, but his vision was blurry, and the person had already moved out of his line of sight. The voice had a musical quality, and sounded vaguely familiar, almost like it was someone he had known a long time ago but hadn't spoken to in years. He couldn't match it to a face though, and could tell only that it was a woman's voice. He closed his eyes and began to drift back into sleep. Whoever it was sounded kind, and his head hurt too much to think, so he let himself rest.

He didn't know how long it had been when he next awoke, but the world was more a grey now than black, and he did not feel so groggy. He opened his eyes, trying to sit up, and found that his movement was restricted. He discovered himself to be tied lightly down with seaweed and he blinked. He was still in the lake then. He tugged the plants away easily, as they were meant more to keep him in place than to restrict him. And then moved about. He was in another circular room, this one without windows, and with large hollows carved into the walls that were filled with seaweed wraps, for sleep most likely. There was a tunnel at one side and as he approached it a merwoman appeared from within.

All at once his memory returned to him and he growled at her, claws and teeth lengthening in anger. She looked startled and then understanding.

"It is alright little guardian. I mean you no harm." He jerked back. Her voice held musical quality still, and was comparable to what he had heard from her before, but she spoke English. It was surprising, as it was nearly impossible for the merpeople to speak a man's tongue. It almost seemed to cause them pain.

"You can speak!"

She laughed, the sound wonderfully beautiful, and filling the water around them. He could almost see her mirth as though it were mist. "Of course I can. We learn the song-tongue from the age of fingerlings."

His forehead scrunched in confusion. "Song-tongue?"

She nodded. "It is not man-tongue we speak now little guardian. It is the song-tongue of our people. My egg-partner fed you our sacred pearl grass so that you may speak with us."

"But... I thought you could learn mermish? I mean, Dumbledore speaks it."

She shook her head. "One must be granted the song-tongue. It cannot be learned in full. It was a wondrous thing that you managed to speak even the single word you did. The master of your place of learning was granted the song-tongue just as you have been. He saved the father of my egg-partner when he was only a fingerling himself, and was given the pearl grass as payment for his kind deed."

Harry nodded in acceptance. That sounded like something Dumbledore would do. "So... What exactly did I do to earn it? I mean..." He paused and she smiled gently at him.

"You have shown us great respect little guardian. You have swam among us and treated us as you would other surface dwellers. You have been kind to our fingerlings, and shown that you care for them. And you have worked so hard to become accepted by us, that you taught yourself to understand a word of our tongue. The respect you have shown us, the honor in your actions, might seem very small to you. But to us, we who have suffered the contempt and foolishness of others before you, it is a far greater matter."

He nodded. He wasn't sure he understood, as it felt to him as though he hadn't done anything at all, but if the merwoman insisted, then he would believe her. "So what happens now?"

"Now, you return to your world for the time being. You have slept through a full moon-time within this chamber, and you must go back. And when you seek to visit us again, only your ability to speak with us will have changed."

"Thank you." He swam towards the tunnel that led upwards, but paused. "May I ask your name?"

She grinned, the expression as feral on her beautiful face as it was on the little mergirl's when she was up to some mischief, and for a moment he wondered if they were related. "I am Moonscale, little guardian."

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Harry discovered his clothes and other possessions had been set nicely just beneath a fallen tree so as to hide them from plain sight. The twins were nowhere to be found, though he could see their footprints and smell their scent. It was likely they had returned to the castle to cover for him as promised. He readied himself and went into the forest towards the secret tunnel rather than heading straight for the school. It was early, but not so much so that no one would be up, or that he would be able to take a shower without giving up breakfast in return. There wouldn't be enough time before the first class block began.

It wouldn't matter too much if he was late though, as, being Monday, his first class would be history of magic, and Binns wouldn't even notice if he skipped. In fact, Harry decided, that was exactly what he would do. Hermione or Ron one would be worried enough about his disappearance to cover for him and say 'here' when roll was called, and as long as someone spoke for the name when it was said, Binns would mark them present. He moved more leisurely now that he had made such a decision, and found himself wandering through the tunnel slowly once he'd gotten to it.

He came to the first split in the path of the tunnel and paused. Thus far, he had used the tunnel only to travel back and forth from the forest to the secret rooms of the twins. He had yet to explore the rest of them, and he wondered if he should do so now. He had an hour and a half to kill, and if he cut out the time it would take him to take a quick shower and grab a snack from the kitchens then there was still an hour. He might need the map though, to find out where he was and guide his way. He dug through his pockets.

Not too long ago, he had found the proper combination of runes for enhancing the size of a room or container without altering the outward appearance of it. It was a surprisingly easy bit of runework considering all the laws of physics it seemed to break, and he had slowly worked around to placing the simpler versions of the runes on the pockets of most of his clothes, so as to be able to carry more with him. He still felt the weight of it all, but since his animagus issues made him much stronger than he used to be, he barely noticed the added weight.

He found to his delight that he had indeed kept the map on him, as well as his invisibility cloak. He hadn't been sure he had brought them to the meeting yesterday, and the anger he had felt at the end of it had made his memory cloudy. He left the cloak in his pocket but pulled out the map. He was on the ground floor right now. To his left was the way to the hospital wing, while his right headed towards the great hall and some of the classrooms. The map revealed that only Madame Pomfrey occupied her wing at the moment, so he went right. He cast a short spell at the map that Remus had mentioned, that would chart wherever he went so that the secret passageways would be remembered and marked onto the map for future use.

Soon he heard murmuring through the walls and stopped when he heard a voice he recognized. He blinked at the map, finding himself next to an empty classroom and put an ear to the wall. Ginny's voice filled his ear.

"But why should it matter? I mean, you like me don't you?"

"I just don't think we should... I mean, what if someone finds out? Your brothers-"

"My brothers don't control my life. And no one is gonna know." There was a pause and her voice lowered. "I won't tell if you don't. Besides, it's just sex. Who cares?"

Harry pulled away from the wall, blushing and uncomfortable, and moved on. He pointedly avoided looking at the map to see who she had been talking to. Eventually more voices reached his ears and he found himself near the transfiguration classroom. He could hear Professor McGonagall's voice through the stones, and occasionally a student. He moved on, not feeling the need to listen in on classes. Soon the path split again. On one side was another pathway, this one rather dark, with the torches much more widely spaced. On the other was a set of stairs. He glanced at the map.

His path up till this point was marked with glowing red, and would be until he ended the charting spell. The stairs led down into the dungeons, while the dark path to his right seemed to lead towards where he knew the great hall to be. He glanced back and forth between the two paths. Explore the dungeons or the great hall? He nodded to himself and headed down the stairs.

Halfway down he tripped and scrambled for purchase on the stones. His claws broke through the glamour and sliced into the walls like butter, anchoring him into an awkward position with his feet forward and off the steps. He kept his claws in place and slowly moved himself so that he was standing before he pulled them out, the sharp appendages sinking obediently back beneath the glamours. The stairs, it seemed, were covered in water, and when he listened he could hear it trickling somewhere.

He moved slower then, more carefully, so as not to risk slipping again. The floor at the bottom was covered in water as well, and he wondered where it came from. It smelt clean, and didn't leave any unknown substances on his shoes, so he shrugged it off and kept going. It was very quiet down here, much more so than on the ground floor. The only sound was the water running along the floor, but it was more than sound. The aura of this area was quieter than the higher levels. It was almost like, on the ground floor, and higher up, that there were invisible things around him that were constantly chatting, but that they either weren't around in the dungeons, or that they had gone quiet.

It was a strange feeling, and he brushed it off. It didn't matter. The 'silence' was a welcomed thing. It felt comfortable, like snuggling up beneath a huge plushy blanket that muffled the sound of the rest of the world. He continued on, feeling rather relaxed, and eventually came to another path. The corridor to his left stretched out towards the Slytherin common rooms below. He could even see steps leading down not too far from him. But the sound of running water was louder to his right.

His curiosity getting the best of him, Harry headed right. The sound grew louder, and when the path split in three he followed his ears and took the center. The water on the floor grew thicker, and when he glanced at the map, he was surprised to note that he had just passed the walls and was technically no longer within Hogwarts. This path also seemed to point in the direction of the lake. Maybe that's where the water came from?

The tunnels split again. His original path laid out in front of him, towards the lake, but another path sat to his right. It headed off towards the forest, but there were stairs a few feet in. The water moved down the stairs like a small waterfall, and where he was up to his ankles now, he could tell that by the bottom of those stairs the water would hit his knees. He glanced at the lake path. If it really did lead there, it would be a more convenient way to sneak out to see the merpeople. But it wasn't necessary. The way he snuck out now was just fine, and left him the option of hunting in the forest rather than going to the lake.

He folded up the map and cast a few water repellent charms on it, making sure to seal his pockets once he put it away. The runes should keep the water out, but he didn't want to take chances. After a thought, he also removed his shoes and socks and stuck them in his pockets. He may find himself swimming, and the robe was enough of a burden then. He wouldn't be forced to deal with shoes on top of it.

With a sigh, he headed down the stairs.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The farther he went, the higher the water became, and the wider the corridor grew. Before he knew it, his feet would no longer touch the stones beneath him and he was indeed swimming. The path had grown as wide as the doors to the great hall before it finally opened up. Harry grew still and looked around himself with wide eyes. It was a huge circular stone room. The ceiling was high above him, and at the center was a blue fairy light that pulsed and created moving shadows on the walls around it. Walls that held large sections of what looked like blue marble, that were surrounded by runes.

Harry swallowed. He knew what this was. His stonelaying book had talked about this sort of thing. Loco animae. It was the center room. The 'heart' of Hogwarts. Everything that the old castle was had been born here. He wondered why it had been built so far underground, and away from the castle itself. It hardly mattered, he decided. The people who build it were long dead and incapable of sharing their secrets. He stared at the rune work. It was a masterpiece. There were large, carefully placed runes that interlocked and twisted together in a wondrous harmony. But they were filled and interlinked by what must have been thousands of smaller runes, some as big as his hand, or smaller than his pinky. It must have taken more than a hundred wizards working in perfect symphony to pull this off, and even then, it would have taken years.

He studied them for a time, soon realizing how far beyond his level this all was. He felt a strange lump in his throat and an overwhelming sense of humbleness, like a mouse standing before a giant. With a shaky breath he tore his eyes away, he didn't have the time to study this in depth. But he could at least explore the cavern itself and see if there was anything beneath the water before he had to leave.

With an unnecessary deep breath, he dived into the water. It had become habit to do so, despite his gills. They 'tasted' the water around him. It was staler than the water of the lake; more earthy than Black lake's fishiness; almost like mud. There were no fish here at all, though he could see the bottom was in fact covered in dirt, and the occasional underwater plant. A few of them glowed in shades of blue and purple. He had never seen them before, and made an internal note to look them up. The runes on the walls extended down into the water, and it occurred to him that this place had never been intended to be filled with water.

He swam to the bottom, running his fingers across the dirt and making a bit of it twist up like brown smoke. He swam around the edges of the cavern, running a hand along the walls and runes as he went. He felt his hair stand on end; the touch of the runes giving him an unexpected thrill, and making his magic buzz like a bug under his skin in acknowledgement of the power of this place.

A dark spot caught his eyes, and he swam to it. It was an opening, a full doorway completely beneath the water. It appeared there had once been a door as well, but it had long since been rotted away by the water and left the area open. A grand corridor stretched out in front of him. His strong eyes could make out the end, another doorway, even though the blue light didn't reach that far. He bit his lip. He wanted badly to swim down it and explore, but he was sure to be late for potions as it was, and Snape would be angry with him.

He may not like the grumpy potion master very much, but he respected him, and the thought of truly angering or disappointing the man made his throat close up. He pulled away and swam back towards the other opening, going as quickly as he could. He would come back and explore another time. Right now he needed to get to class.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Snape looked down his nose at him when he arrived, noticing nothing wrong due to the extensive drying charms Harry had used, and gleefully assigned a detention for next Monday. No points were taken, and considering he was nearly twenty minutes late, it was a rather mild punishment when coming from Snape. He counted his blessings and sat in the only empty seat, next to Neville. He took one look at the mess within the cauldron and knew they were probably not going to get a good grade today.

He turned out to be right, but only because they weren't able to finish the potion after they vanished the original and started over. They had ten points each taken away, but, like before, it was a fairly mild punishment and Harry quietly counted his blessings. He had felt Hermione and Ron's eyes on him during the entire lesson, and he slipped away to Ancient Studies after the bell before they could catch him. He wasn't in the mood to lie.

The class helped his nerves. The tales of ancient Egyptian magicks holding his attention avidly. By the time class was done he felt better, and was left with the decision of where to eat lunch. He had come to dread eating in the great hall, but it was important he did so at least occasionally. He could eat in the kitchens, and avoid people for the time being, but the house elves' mindless worship of him was a whole other kind of stress. The secret room was on the top floor, and it would take too long to get there from here, or from there to his next class. The lake posed the same problem. He could skip, but that meant not eating, and that he would be left starving by dinnertime.

With a sigh, he decided to brave the great hall. Hermione and Ron would pester him, and people would stare like they always did, but right now it was preferable. He would have plenty of food to eat, and he was starving. He knew his core was strained. That plant had done a number on him, certainly. It would pass, of course, but he still felt drained for the time being.

The great hall was full of chatter and the typical noise of many students. Harry slipped onto the bench in a seat next to Dean and Seamus and immediately reached for the fish. A Gryffindor he didn't know settled in on his other side with a few others. He had taken a few bites by the time Ron and Hermione appeared. He noticed them set themselves across from him out of the corner of his eyes. He didn't look up, even when Hermione cleared her throat in an attempt to get his attention.

"Harry!" He finally looked up at them when she hissed his name, internally cursing the automatic reaction everyone had when someone said their name. She narrowed her eyes at him and he swallowed. He knew that look. "Where have you been?! You left after the meeting and we couldn't find you. Ron even said you never came back to the dorms!"

"Actually, he doesn't usually. He hasn't slept in the dorms in awhile." Ron scratched his head as he spoke, the words coming out nonchalant. He knew Ron didn't really care where he went, but he had hoped the redhead would be better at keeping his mouth shut. Hermione's mouth flapped open and then she glared at Harry.

"What are you thinking?! Harry you know how dangerous it is! Where have you been going?!"

"It doesn't matter."

"Harry James Potter you tell me right now!" The hall went quiet, Hermione's voice having risen high enough to catch attention. He stood, feeling a near-silent growl rising in his throat. Hermione was his friend. But she had no right to demand anything of him. The anger that filled him was surprisingly sharp, and he wondered if his animagus instincts were at play. It felt cold, like being dipped in ice, and he glared at her, his anger perfectly visible. Hermione flinched back, paling, and the Hermione-owl twittered in something like fear.

He didn't say a word, merely walked away, leaving the great hall, his appetite strangely absent.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

He felt bad later, wondering if his new instincts had been responsible for his actions, but at the time he had felt truly offended. That anyone would dare demand something of him, as though he had no right to his own freedoms or secrets, infuriated him. He knew Voldemort was after him. He knew he was an important player in this war, because of his status as 'the-boy-who-lived'. But that didn't mean he lost the right to have time to himself. It didn't mean he had to offer up every waking moment of his life to other's eyes for inspection.

He walked through the halls of Hogwarts, anger ebbing away with every step until he felt more tired than anything else. He stopped in the middle of the hall, not even sure which floor he was on, and sighed, the sound coming out ragged and aged, as though he were an old man rather than a young teenager.

"I wonder what's gotten you so out of sorts? To sound as you do." He tensed at the voice, and looked around himself. There was no one in the hall, however. He was alone. The voice chuckled. "Up here, my dear child."

He looked up, and around, until his eyes lit upon a portrait. It depicted an old wizard, still younger than Dumbledore, with a proud jaw and nose, and lines around his eyes. His hair was cut short, and black, though it grayed on the sides, same with the well groomed mustache and short, pointed beard the man sported. He looked down at Harry with amused eyes that were so vivid a blue they stood out from his place ten feet below the picture. The old wizard wore simple, but well-made black robes trimmed with silver, and he sat on a high-backed hand-carved chair of dark wood.

"Who are you?"

The painting smiled in a crooked sort of way. "Me? Why I'm just another portrait is all."

Harry snorted. "I meant, who are you a portrait of?"

"Oh is that what you meant? You must learn to be more specific, child." Harry glared and the man only laughed. "Oh, little one, I have not spoken to another person in quite some time, and in all my hanging here, I have never given my name to those I have spoken to. What makes you think I will tell you?"

Harry stared at him a moment, then sighed. "Fine, don't tell me. But you should at least give me something to call you by."

"Hmm..." The old man rubbed his beard and looked up in a mockery of thought, as though giving it great consideration. Then he snapped his fingers and a comical look of enlightenment filled his face, and he looked back down at Harry. "You may call me Frode."

"Frode? Alright then. I'm Harry."

The painting smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Harrison."

Harry blinked. "So... What did you want with me, anyways?"

The man tilted his head to the side. "I only wished to know what has you so troubled. I was curious is all. There are no other portraits in this wing, and I have no other frame, so I rarely have anyone to talk to, and I find myself bored."

"I... see." Harry stared at him for a moment, and then made a decision. Why not confide in a portrait? "I got angry at one of my friends is all. And I wasn't sure my anger was justified."

"And what was it that angered you?"

He hesitated only a moment. "I felt as though she was intruding on my freedom."

"Ah. Freedom is a man's natural power of doing what he pleases, so far as he is not prevented by force or law. It is understandable to be angry over such a thing. After all, what does one have, if not freedom? A man can be without food or drink, clothes or home, but so long as he has freedom, his life is still a blessed one."

Harry stared at the painting a moment, and then nodded. "I suppose that's true."

"Harry? Who are you talking to?" He jumped and turned to find Hermione standing not too far from him, looking at him with concern.

"Oh, I was just talking to," He looked up and blinked. The painting was still there, but it no longer resembled a living person. It looked now, like a portrait truly did, with an essence of non-reality to it, and it didn't move. It looked like a muggle painting. "… myself, I guess."

Hermione shifted from foot to foot. "I wanted to apologize." He stared at her. "I shouldn't have pressed you like I did. I was just worried. You've been acting so different lately, and with Voldemort back things are more dangerous now... I just don't want anything to happen to you."

A feeling of guilt settled in his stomach for a moment, his throat closing up for a moment before he managed to make himself speak. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to get so angry. It's just..." She looked hopeful, and for a moment he felt the urge to tell her everything. He swallowed it down, knowing that he couldn't. He sighed, and her face fell as though she realized he wouldn't share his secrets with her. "Lot's of things happened this summer, and last year. I need some space, and I can't tell you everything... But, I promise that when I say I'm alright, and when I tell you I'm safe, that I'm telling the truth. And if I get in over my head or something, then I promise I'll tell you."

Her expression was resigned, and she nodded. He knew she would worry, and it would drive her insane not to know what was going on, but she would accept his views on the matter. She smiled weakly, and when she offered him a hug, he didn't hesitate to take it.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The next few days passed him by in a way born from a combination of routine and boredom. He was forced to put off his exploration and study of the underwater cavern in favour of classes, homework, and study. His next meeting with Snape was relatively uneventful, and his subsequent detention became another lesson that passed by equally uneventful. He was making decent progress now, and was actually able to push the potion master from his mind, though the effort of such an action left him utterly exhausted and gasping for breath. Snape had quickly grown used to his glamourless form, and he occasionally caught him studying him curiously. He wondered absently to himself how long it would take for the man to ask if he could run tests. He had learned, if nothing else, that the man genuinely enjoyed two things; learning and potions, particularly so when the two were combined.

Just when he thought a moment of free-time would finally come up, Hermione informed him that they had scheduled a meeting for that time. The first real meeting of the group of students he would be teaching how to defend themselves. The mere thought of it set a weight on his shoulders, and he was finally beginning to feel the weight of his full schedule upon himself. He had nearly hoped he might have scared them off, but they had apparently decided to trust him for now. The small plan that had been silently forming itself in the back of his mind came to the forefront the day before, as he traveled through the halls alone and caught sight of a small group of Slytherins. Zabini was among them.

He watched the dark skinned teenager for a moment from his place several paces behind him and a couple of younger snakes and thought. As far as he could tell, Zabini had never spoken to anyone of Luna's gift to him (the one he was still not thinking of), and he had heard nice things about him from Neville, who was part of his group in Ancient Studies. He debated within his mind, and finally, decision made, called out.

"Zabini!" He watched in veiled interest as every muscle in the young man's body tensed, and how well controlled his movements were as he slowly turned around. He felt he had made the right choice when, after realizing who had called him, and that Harry was alone, he relaxed a bit, though not completely. "Could I have a word?" His dark eyes scrutinized Harry in a way that was not unlike Snape, and then with a turn and a whispered word to the others, he approached Harry cautiously while they remained near the wall. Harry felt impressed at the other boy's ability to hide the nervousness he felt from his face, despite his body giving him away; and even then, it did so only slightly, and partially because Harry had been watching for it to begin with.

"Potter. How can I help you?" His tone was amicable enough, if wary, and Harry's lips twitched with the suppressed urge to smile. He held up a calming hand, and removed his wand to cast a silencing charm around them. He put it away when he was done, and though the other had tensed again through the action, he calmed once the wand was safely back within Harry's robes.

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said on the train." Zabini raised an eyebrow but did not otherwise respond, and he continued. "What do you think of Umbridge's class, honestly speaking?" If the question surprised him, he didn't let it show, though he answered in careful, measured way that told Harry he wasn't sure what was going on.

"I... Find her class lacking." The slightest emotion of distaste passed over his eyes, and Harry smiled.

"I'm sure you are aware of my skills in the more practical aspects of defence." It wasn't really a question, but the other nodded all the same. "Some friends of mine have begun putting together a group of sorts, for study purposes. I will be in charge of teaching them the more practical aspects that Umbridge's class is lacking in, and when we met to discuss the creation of this group, I noticed an issue that I was hoping you might be able to help me rectify."

"Oh?" He looked genuinely curious now and Harry nodded.

"There were no Slytherins in the group." Zabini's face showed true surprise for a moment before morphing into a pleased smile.

"I do believe I can help you with that, Mr. Potter."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

"What are we waiting for?" Ron was in a foul mood. Harry mused that it likely had something to do with Daniel, who was deep in conversation with Hermione about magical theory, which they both intended to take as a class the next year.

"I told you before, I invited a few other people. I'd like to give them a moment to show up." Harry's voice held a tone of exasperation, as it had been the third or so time that he had told him such. Still, he could understand why he was irritated, as there was nearly thirty of them here, and they were all milling about in the hall outside the room of requirement. No one wanted to be caught. He realized the moment the Slytherins arrived, as Ron's eyes suddenly rested on something behind him, and the words he spat out were filled with venom.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He turned, and found a group of five Slytherins, though he was slightly surprised by exactly which Slytherins it was. Zabini stood at the head of the group, with Malfoy and, was it Greengrass? just behind him, and Goyle and Crabbe at the back. It was not lost on him how they kept close together and the wary looks on their faces.

"They're here because I invited them, Ron." The redhead blanched, though Harry could see the twins hiding grins from their place near the back where they had been conversing with Lee. Harry saw the way his face morphed first into disbelief, then betrayal, then anger; his emotions available for all to see.

"WHAT?! How could you invite those death-eater-wannabes?!" Harry glared, feeling no guilt for his actions, and his voice was sharp and cold when he spoke, making the boy flinch.

"I made it very clear when I agreed to teach this group that I would do so on my terms, and my terms only. I'll teach whomever I please. If you, if any of you, have a problem with that, then. Fuck. Off." His voice was perhaps harsher than it needed to be, but it got the point across. Ron glared at him for several moments, and when it became clear that Harry had no intention of backing down, he spat at his feet and stalked away. Seven or so other people in the group, including Cho, followed him. Harry watched them go with a heavy heart, and then began pacing before the wall until a door appeared. Everyone else followed him in silently.

He took a moment to appreciate the room he had imagined up and calm his emotions before he spoke to them. The entire wall across from the entrance was covered in mirrors, with the wall of the entrance, and the one to his left filled with bookshelves stuffed with texts on defence, offense, and healing. There were a few tables surrounded by cushions on that side, while the right side of the room held a few practice dummies. The room itself was huge, with high ceilings like the great hall, and with a large amount of empty practice space. There was a small, raised platform against the wall of mirrors, and he stepped up on it and turned to face the crowd. Some had their eyes on him, others were looking around, but after a moment of silence he had everyone's attention. The Slytherins stood slightly apart from the others, with the twins nearest them to act as a buffer.

"First things first, I'll be laying down the rules." He had thought quite a bit over how he was going to run this, and he would not be deterred. "Before any of you leave here today, you'll be signing a magical contract that will keep you from telling anyone about what goes on in this room. I don't care if you never come to another meeting after this, you will still sign it." No one protested. "For the most part, I will be the one teaching you, but if any of you knows spells you think might be useful, that I don't know, we will set something up for you to teach the group. In this room, there is no such thing as houses. I don't care what you do or how you act outside. I don't care about rivalries or Quidditch. In here, we will be united, and you will treat each other with respect or I will throw you out on your arse." He paused again, glaring those who looked like they might protest into submission. "Our meetings will be at the same time every week unless stated otherwise. If something comes up and less than five of you can't make it, you'll have to play catch up. If it's five or more, the meeting for that day will be cancelled. We will start simple, and work our way up. If one of you is significantly ahead of the others, I will work out something individually with that person. The same goes for anyone who is significantly behind. There will be no taunts, no cheating, and no cheap shots. If you hurt another person, and it isn't part of the spell being taught, or an accident, I'll do the same thing you did, to you. Are we clear?" There was a chorus of agreement, and he nodded. "Any questions?"

Daniel raised a hand and he looked at him. "What are we calling this group?" Harry shrugged.

"You can come up for ideas between yourselves this week, and next meeting we'll discuss it." He nodded and a small Ravenclaw near him raised a hand.

"What do we do if someone gets hurt on accident?" He pointed to the shelves.

"There are healing potions here, and we will be studying healing spells as well as defense. If it isn't something we can handle ourselves, then whoever it is will be taken to Professor Snape." The girl paled, but nodded. Harry waited a moment to see if there were anymore questions, and when there wasn't, he sighed to himself and clapped his hands together, visibly startling a couple people.

"Very well. Let's begin."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

"Potter." He blinked, turning around to face the other. It had been an exhausting two hours. Though it hadn't been nearly so stressful as he had expected. The group, for the most part, learned quickly, and Harry had managed to teach them the disarming charm and a mild shield in the single meeting, as well as assign homework of a sort. They had taken his rules and threats seriously, and everyone had been surprisingly amenable to one another. He was already coming up with lesson plans in his head. The Slytherins stood before him, Malfoy at the head of the group. Most everyone else had already left, even Hermione. He could see the twins whispering in a corner, and Luna appeared to be lost in a book. His gaze swept over Zabini, who was looking at him lazily, body relaxed, and then met the grey eyes of the blonde who had spoken.

"How can I help you, Malfoy?" He still didn't care much for the other, but he was careful to keep his stance relaxed, and his tone neutral and kind. The look on the other's face showed that he had been expecting some form of hostility.

"I was wondering if you had any intention of introducing any... Darker curses during these..." He hesitated. "Lessons." His voice was only just civil, and Harry found it to be more than he had expected.

"What I teach, or allow anyone else to teach, will depend on how dangerous of a practice it would be, as well as the legality of it. I've no issue with darker magic so long as no one here will go to jail for using them, or be badly harmed during the process of learning them." His answer surprised them, and Malfoy met Zabini's eyes for a moment. Something passed between them, and then all the snakes stood a little straighter. There was a sort of grudging respect in Malfoy's eyes when they next fell upon him, and he felt as though he had passed some sort of test without knowing what it had been.

"Very well. I believe that is acceptable. You mentioned that you would be covering defensive, offensive, and healing spells, correct?" He nodded. "Do you intend to cover anything else?" He eyed the blonde carefully.

"Perhaps. It would depend on the nature of the thing, and whether anyone was opposed to learning it. Time is also an issue. Was there something in particular you had in mind?" Malfoy looked surprised that he would ask his opinion.

"I... Had thought perhaps mind magics, maybe some basic survival spells, and, if possible, the animagus transformation." His voice was wary as he spoke, and Harry hummed.

"I won't teach legilimency, but I'm not opposed to teaching the basics of occlumency. Meditation and emotional control at least. That will probably help us keep this all secret. We can work on it a little at each meeting and people can improve and practice on their own time. If we wanna go into the advanced stuff we'll have to get help from someone skilled in legilimency, and it will have to be someone everyone trusts, so we might not be able to even if we wanted. Survival spells are an excellent idea." He smiled. "I'll have to look into it first, but I think we can definitely learn that. As far as the animagus transformation goes, we need to have a stock of the potion first, but the meditation for occlumency will help with the beginning steps for that. I won't give any guarantees though, because everyone would have to learn that at their own paces, and there would be the issue of whether or not the person wanted to register with the ministry or not, and how to hide it if they didn't. Have you managed it?" He looked at them, genuinely curious.

"I have. Draco is in the process, but the others haven't." It was Zabini who had spoken, and Harry blinked at him and then smiled mischievously.

"Fun to be a big cat, isn't it?" The boy looked surprised, and then his expression, as well as the others turned into suspicion. He considered for a moment, and then sighed. It wasn't like they could share anything said in this room anyways. "I guess you could say it's an... ability of mine to be able to see a person's inner animal. I know what you are whether you've become an animagus or not." He shrugged.

"What am I then?" Malfoy's eyes were narrowed in slight disbelief, but there was excitement in them.

"A kneazle. I think. I've never seen one, so I can't be sure, but your animal is a larger than normal cat with tufted ears, and that's how I've heard them described..." Malfoy looked thoughtful, and nodded.

"What about me?" Greengrass seemed to chastise herself almost as soon as she had spoken, not wanting to look as eager as she did, but he smiled at her all the same and looked carefully at the smoky form clinging to her.

"I think it's a garden snake, since it looks similar, but I'm no expert on species." She smiled, pleased with his answer, and then eyed him.

"So what kind of feline are you?" He blanched, and opened his mouth to protest only to have her wave a hand in his face. "Don't try to deny it. You as much as admitted it with your comment to Blaise." He eyed them for a moment, knowing that he had the chance to befriend these people, to turn them from Voldemort, and suddenly terrified of screwing it up. He thought over his words carefully.

"I... I can't tell you." Their faces began to sour and he continued before they became incensed. "It's not just a matter of trust, and it isn't because you're Slytherins. Only three people know about my form, and Hermione and Ron aren't even part of that number. One knows because they're the one who taught me and told me to keep it secret, and the other two only know because they discovered me. I never told them." They watched him for a moment, considering his words, and he felt compelled to add more. "Maybe you'll find out one day. I wouldn't be that surprised. You _are _Slytherins, after all." They smirked while he cursed himself in his head, just knowing this would make things more difficult for him, and not knowing why he had done that.

They left after exchanging relatively pleasant goodbyes and Harry found himself breathing a sigh of relief. At least until Luna Lovegood wandered over to him with that dreamy smile firmly in place.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

He had to hand it Luna, that girl could guilt-trip with the best them. He sat alone on the floor of the dorm room, glaring at the barely-wrapped package before him. Within was the strange armor that she had given him, and she had somehow roped him into promising to wear it. He sighed, snatched up the package and went into the bathroom. He stripped naked, as she had told him it went below his clothes, and set about figuring out how to put it on. The soft, cloth-like underarmor was simple enough. Long-sleeved tunic that went nearly to his knees and long pants. They were flowy, and he hardly felt the silvery material against his skin. The other pieces were more complicated, and it took almost fifteen minutes of trial and error before he figured it out.

It looked strange in the mirror. The pieces were all too big, the material even bigger. It bunched and pushed around through every piece of the harder armor pieces. Remembering Luna's instructions, he put a hand to the chestpiece and pushed a bit of his magic in. Immediately, all of it snapped tighter around him, and the image in the mirror was vastly different. The softer material was flush against his skin, though he could barely see it beneath the black armor that covered everything below his neck aside from his hands and feet. The under material just peeked through at the wrists, ankles, and collar. The black armor was scarcely thicker than tinfoil, and moved as he did, though when he banged a fist against his chest he couldn't even feel it. The silver cloth was slightly thicker, though aside from the barest whisper of softness against his skin he felt almost as though he were still naked. Curiosity had him putting his other clothes on, and he found that with slacks and a button up, he could hardly see the armour at all. It was especially so with his robe on over it.

A sudden banging on the door had him jumping nearly out of his skin. "Hey! Hurry up in there!" He opened the door in surprise, and within a second Seamus had rushed past him and slammed the door in his face. He blinked, and turned back to the room at the sound of a snicker. Neville was looking at him with open amusement.

"He and Dean challenged each other to see who could drink more pumpkin juice and Dean cheated." Harry snorted and the two of them shared a laugh. Neville smiled brightly and Harry was struck for a moment on just how different the other boy had become. He wasn't done growing yet, but he was still a far cry from the terrified little boy who had stood up to them in first year when they had snuck out to deal with that mess with the philosopher's stone. "You alright Harry?" He realized he'd been staring, lost in thought. He shook himself.

"Yea, I'm fine. Sorry." Neville smiled again, though it was tinged with worry this time, and left the room. Harry's eyes moved from the door he had left through to Ron's bed. He closed his eyes.

His chest hurt.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

**Loco animae- place of the soul (the room or area in old magic buildings which all runes and wards are connected to)**

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Ok, so, a few things.

First off, the bit with the merpeople. This doesn't play as huge a roll in the story as it seems like it will. It might come up from time to time, but, for the most part, this was sort of the peak of the merpeople's little mini-arc. Don't worry, they're not going anywhere yet, but the focus will be shifting elsewhere soon.

Secondly, Ginny. No. I'm not bashing her. She's just a teenager, is all. I recall my sister as being vaguely promiscuous through our high school years. I don't know when it happened, but I know that by the time we turned sixteen, she wasn't a virgin anymore. Going through puberty is the natural human body response that is basically telling you it's time to mate. There is a reason that it was once considered (a long time ago) perfectly acceptable for a thirteen-year-old girl to be married off and have children. Women tend to go into sexual maturity earlier than men, sometimes as soon as the age of 9 or 10, though they hit their sexual peek much later. For girls it's around 30, but guys hit theirs at 20. Hence cougars. For some girls, the first response to puberty is to explore their sexuality and experiment. We get teen mothers as young as thirteen here in America, and that's pretty much why. Wanting to explore your body's feelings and nature, however, does not make you a whore or a slut, even if I honestly think it's better to wait at least until 17, so I didn't include the little part I did to bash her or make her look bad. The whole scene had a purpose to serve, and, while I won't tell you what it was, you'll find out later. There will be other things as I go, little signs in passing that Harry notices (since we only know what he knows in this story) so keep an eye out. All will be explained in time.

Third. Frode is important. Keep that in mind, and think on it when he pops up in the future. It will be some time before I reveal his secrets, so patience. On another note, I will tell you why I made him. I'm not usually big on OC's that have any large hand in the story, but I needed Frode to be Harry's little voice of reason. Think of him as like an adviser of sorts.

And last, Ron and the Slytherins. This was gonna happen eventually, and this was just the most natural way I could go about it. This isn't exactly a 'dark-Harry' fic, but I'd count him in the darker shades of grey if I wanted to go into that. Harry needs to start seeing the Slytherins as proper people and making friends among them if the story is to progress the way I want it to. It will be his experiences with them that will eventually shape how he reacts to Loki, when we get there. As for Ron, he's a teenager prone to fits of a nasty temper. It will get worse before it gets better, but I'm not intending to bash him anymore than I was Ginny. His friendship was something that would hold this Harry back, so I needed to cut him off to help our little animagus move forward and grow.

Very well, I've said my piece and now I'm done. I look forward to the reviews I get for this, and to any votes I get on the poll. Now, in the words of Porky Pig;

Th- Th- Th- Th- That's all folks!

Mr. Hate


	6. Part One, Chapter Five

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

Ok. First off. Let's get this straight right now. If you have a question about a pairing, go back and look at the author notes for the previous chapters, and my responses to the reviews. Harry will be **single** until otherwise specified. Then it will be up to a **vote** as to who he is paired with. The selection at such a time will contain male **and** female characters, and majority wins. End of story. Don't ask again. I won't acknowledge your review.

Speaking of voting. I salute those of you who have voted on the meeting thus far. There's already someone far in the lead. Anyone else who wants to, **do it while you can**, because there will be **NO** warning before I close the poll. It'll just happen. Suddenly. Spontaneously. With no warning… Cough. If, for whatever reason, you cannot access the poll, or just feel it would be easier, then leave your vote in a review. If you leave your vote in this manner, you can only vote once, and I will not count any votes made by an anonymous reviewer. I will count up the review votes and add them to the poll votes when I close it. When I have closed the poll, I will do so by deleting it. As a result, you must read the author's notes to find when the winner has been determined, as the result will not be available on my page. Thank you for your help.

…Now, about the chapter. Today, we discover secrets about the mysterious room, and learn that Mr. Hate is terrible at attempting to write Old English. Aside from that, I drop a bomb on you guys at the end and then leave you hanging. Just warning you now.

There is a **reason** we are waiting for the Avengers. I need all the shit happening here not only to explain backstory but to help with character development. Just making that clear for any of you who were wondering. This story is too massive to just explain in flashbacks without making Harry look overpowered and overdone. The bomb at the end is a little cliché, as far as fanfics go, but I still put my own twist on it, and I want you all to keep reading a few chapters after this before you tell me I suck. Don't stop after the end of this chapter just because you don't like it. I have, until now, given no warning that I would do this, but it was something I planned from the beginning. I'm sorry to anyone who doesn't like it, but, this is my story, and you are free to write your own stories that go the way you want them to. All the same, at least give it till the end of Part One, okay. It's eight chapters, that's all I'm asking you for. If you want to quit, then wait till then.

Just give it a chance, that's all I'm saying. Pretty please, with sugar on top?

Two more things. First, you may have noticed we now have a cover picture. The pic is a small cropped piece of a much larger picture I drew for this fic on a whim. It's a little sloppy and not quite how I wanted it to be, but if you want to see the whole thing, there's a link on my page. There's some things in it that hint at things that haven't happened just yet, but most of what it gives away is small and things you'll learn by about mid-Part Two. Second, the early update is just a by-product of my particularly good mood today. Don't expect it to happen all the time. Now, onto the fic!

Hope you enjoy.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry sighed to himself as he stood outside Snape's office. He'd been warring with this decision since the first group meeting a few days prior. It was Thursday again, time for his occlumency lesson, and he was no closer to reaching a decision than he had been the moment the question first popped into his mind. He leaned his forehead against the cool door and shut his eyes tightly, fighting with himself. He never even heard the footsteps.

"Mr. Potter?" His eyes snapped open, his head jerking up to affix his vision upon his potions professor. The man's face betrayed nothing, appearing to him to be as grumpy and git-like as ever. But the bicorn, the ghostly representation of the man and his inner thoughts itself, made a sound that, to Harry's ears, was concerned in nature. That, more than anything, seemed to make his decision for him.

"Can I trust you?" He was proud that his voice did not waver, and that his words were firm and strong. Snape's eyebrows raised in surprise before his expression fell blank, and Harry waited. The man stared at him a moment, and then brushed past him to unlock and open the office door. He left it open as he strided in, and Harry shut and locked it behind him as he followed. The man turned as he reached his desk, leaning his lower back against it and placing both palms flat against the top of it at each side of him. Harry stopped a few paces in front of him, and they stared at each other; eyes unwavering. Finally the man spoke.

"Unless I felt it was the only way to keep you from harm, I would never betray you." And Harry believed him, for the truth of it shone in his dark eyes. He nodded, and sat. Snape remained where he was, and Harry began to speak.

"Umbridge's class is useless. The things she teaches aren't going to help anyone." He thought it best to get straight to the point, and Snape appeared to be listening closely. "Because of that, some of us decided to form a group in which to learn defense together. I know a lot more than the others, so I'm in charge of teaching them right now. Since defense has always been hectic I figured we'd start small and work our way up." Snape nodded, and seemed to keep his voice carefully controlled when he responded.

"Would I be right in assuming this group consists primarily of Gryffindors?" Harry held back a smile.

"Right now there are ten Gryffindors, six Ravenclaws, five Hufflepuffs, and five Slytherins." That seemed to catch the man's attention. He looked shocked, and then pleased; a tiny smile appearing on his face. Harry grinned, and then tried to be serious. "Right now, I think we'll be fine because we're working on the basics, but when we get to more dangerous spells..." He paused. "I was hoping you might be willing to supervise the group, and be there in case anyone gets hurt." There was silence after his request, and Snape appeared to think it over. Then the man smirked.

"When and where does this group of yours meet?" And Harry grinned.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry stumbled as someone slammed into him while he was walking in the halls. He looked to see who it had been, and watched their back as the other walked away.

"What the hell, Ron?!" The redhead turned to sneer at him, his eyes angry. Harry sighed to himself. He knew the other boy well enough by now to realize how nasty his temper was. He was surprised though, when he just turned and walked away without a word. He had expected some sort of insult or proper confrontation. It seemed Ron had decided to give him the cold shoulder. He watched him walk away in silence, and closed his eyes painfully as he turned out of sight. He took a deep, steadying breath; refusing to acknowledge the ache in his chest.

"I'm sorry." He started, and turned around. Malfoy stood behind him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as per the usual. He looked truly apologetic, and Harry realized his own expression must have shown his confusion when the blonde explained. "It's because of us, right? That he's mad at you?" He nodded his head towards the direction Ron had gone and Harry shrugged.

"Ron's never liked you. Or any Slytherins for that matter. I've started learning not to judge a book by its' cover, but I don't really think he ever will. It's not your fault, it's his." Malfoy nodded, accepting his explanation, and suddenly held out a hand. Harry blinked, and looked carefully at the extended limb. He didn't need to be told to understand the significance of this moment, and was surprised at himself when he saw he had begun reaching his hand out without conscious thought.

They both smiled bitterly when their hands shook, and Harry wondered for a moment how different his life could have been if he had accepted that hand years before. Not that he regretted not having done so, given how much of a prat Malfoy had been then.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry lay awake in bed, finding that the sound of Ron's snores, which had at one time been very comforting to him, now made something in him ache. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sleep, but it eluded him. He lay in bed for nearly half an hour before accepting that sleep would not be coming this night, then sitting up and sliding silently out of bed.

He gathered up his cloak and map, and left his shoes and fake glasses behind as he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. He wasn't sure of the time, but there was no one in the common room as he entered, and he took a moment to stand by the fire and suck in the warmth of it. Memories of sitting around the fire with his friends, be it to study, plan, joke about, or play chess, drifted behind his eyes, and he walked away. He didn't want to remember such things at the moment.

Just as that first night, he ran through the halls in near-silence, his feet creating only the barest of taps across the stone of the castle. Where before, he had gone down, tonight he went up, leaping expertly from moving staircase to moving staircase and avoiding the trick steps through familiarity. It wasn't long before he was running through the corridors of the seventh floor, passing the room of requirement by and letting his arms be swept behind him as speed pushed him forwards until he began to slow. He stopped before the tapestry of the sleeping dragon, scratching its' chin and whispering the twins' password. He would change it all once the twins had gone, but not until then.

The redheads had made plans to sleep in their room in Gryffindor tower for the next few weeks to spend time with Lee and be closer to himself. He suspected that they planned to leave very soon, but the secret tower was empty and silent as he entered it, all the same. He took off his cloak, throwing it over the back of a couch, and walked into the bedroom. He slipped out of his clothes, leaving him only in the armor, and tossed them onto the bed, throwing the metal band about his wrist to land atop them. He was hardly surprised when the armor adjusted to his glamourless form, the under armour twisting to halfway down his tail while the darker toppiece covered the topside of his tail over that same length. The plate was flexible, and when Harry had studied the armor carefully he had found it to be made of many large, hard, scales; making him recall Luna's mention of basilisks from the train.

He paid it no mind at the moment however, and was soon setting the map atop the rest of it and sneaking into the secret room through the disguised door. He wouldn't need the map after all, since he knew where he was going. He lifted the trap door open and leapt down, not bothering with the ladder, and landed with a soft thump below, the door above making a clattering noise as it fell closed. He followed his memory, slipping through the passages and tunnels past now-silent classrooms. There were magical torches throughout it all, but the light they gave was subpar at best, and he knew he would likely have much more trouble if not for his powerful vision.

Soon he had hit the water again, and was swimming into the cavern from before. The runes pulsed with blue light as he entered, as though saying hello, and for a while he swam lazily, studying them with awe. The armor didn't seem to hinder his swimming any, and he was thankful for it. If it had made it difficult to swim then he would have refused to wear it, Luna and her guilt-tripping be damned. He looked carefully at some of the runes, taking internal note of the ones he recognized and the ones he didn't, and getting a clearer idea of how it all worked. He knew how some of these runes worked together, and what they did, and it started to paint an incomplete picture within his mind.

Eventually his head began to hurt, frustrated as he was with how much he didn't yet know in regards to this subject, and then he was flipping beneath the water, swimming down until his belly brushed the muddy bottom. He reached a hand into the soil, and barely an inch or two in his fingers brushed against stone. He pulled away, swimming along towards where the underwater doorway was, and occasionally sliding against and reaching out to touch the various plants. He slipped through the door unhurriedly, old magic touching his core as though to ask who he was before pulling back and buzzing against his skin with power.

He swam above the steps, finding they went up quite a ways, and wondering how it was that he was still below ground. The water ended above him, and he could see light above it. He peeked carefully out of the water, doing his best to make as little noise as possible while his ears twitched; taking in sound and searching. He heard nothing but the water, and its' movement. The light above him was green in color, and he moved silently until he was walking up the steps and out of the water, eventually finding himself at the top of them, and in a new room. Unlike the rune-room, he could see the ceiling here, though, unlike the walls, it was not man-made, and looked like the ceiling of a cavern or cave, with stalactites pointing down at him threateningly. The walls themselves were simple stone, made perfectly flat and smooth by magic, though a great deal of it was covered in softly glowing green moss. The floor under his bare feet was much the same, and the moss covered it completely in thick patches; barely any of the floor could be seen at all. Directly across him was a door, untouched by time, and uncovered by the moss.

He approached it slowly, reveling in the feeling of his feet and toes squishing into the moist plant, and finding that it pushed back up to make itself entirely unmarred by his footprints. It must be magical, then. The door was made, surprisingly, of stone, the large handle seeming to grow seamlessly out of it. He put a hand on it, and pulled, startled to find that it opened with relative ease. The door was light as a feather, and took almost no effort to open it, and light spilled out of the room beyond, blinding him for a moment with its' brightness.

When his eyes had adjusted, he found himself looking around with awe. The room was not much larger than the moss-covered room, and the ceiling glowed with golden light, filling the room up with brightness. It was a library, much smaller than the Hogwarts one, with every wall covered in shelves filled with old, leather-bound books and scrolls. He entered carefully, closing the door behind him. There was nice, patterned reddish brown carpet beneath his feet, and a large, dark wood desk and chair in the center of the room, a single book upon it. His eyes moved over everything, and, cautiously, he found himself at the desk. He touched the chair hesitantly, before sitting in it, and finding his eyes drawn to the book.

It was hand-bound with old leather, and relatively small, maybe a hundred or so pages only. He touched it gently, not even surprised that the leather was still soft, and ran a hand across it. There were no markings, and he opened the cover, and found the firstmost page had only a name: Chronus Black. He stared at the name a moment, then turned to the next page, and began to read.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_I am not long to live. I know it. I can feel it deep inside myself, in my bones, my magic, my very soul. I've a few years left perhaps, but no longer. Thus I write this, so that should any other enter this place once I am gone, they might find this. I wonder now, as to thy identity, my dear reader. Are thou man, or woman? What be thy name? But it matters not. For we will never meet, and I will never speak to ye. I shall introduce myself to ye, all the same. I am Chronus, son of Uranus, heir to the most noble house of Black. I was born only sixteen winters past, and I shall not see many more. A marriage has been arranged for me. I am to marry Perdita, of the most noble house of Slytherin, so that I might produce an heir before my passing, as I am my father's only son, and my mother passed upon the eve of my birth, so there shall be no more children come to be sired by him. _

_I grieve for my wife-to-be. What sadness she shall face, to marry a man soon to die, whom she loves not, and to never be able to marry again. I mourn for the life that I take from her, by claiming her as my bride. She is a lovely thing, with locks darker than my own, and eyes like the sky. She has no brothers, only a sister, who has married already, to the son of the Lord Gaunt. He is not a kind man, and I fear the line of Slytherin shall die with these sisters. But that is not what I mean to write here, and so I shall abandon the subject._

_I am the keeper of this place, as it was tasked to me by my late master, his master before him, and her master before her. I was to train one to take my place as keeper, but I will die before I am able, and so shall be the last. I hope ye who finds this might take up my mantle, but I shall not ask it of ye, as that would be only too cruel. Still, I shall teach ye of this place with my written words, so that, if thou so choose it, thou might take my place._

_If ye know not the nature of this place, I shall tell ye. Ye have seen the hall of runes, so made by the founders of this place, the great Lords Slytherin and Gryffindor, and the great Ladies Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. They created it so as to build the great school of Hogwarts, to teach. They were teachers, indeed, and so none could take their places neither as headmaster or headmistress, nor as keeper of secrets. Thus they tasked a man whose name I know not, as headmaster, and a woman whose name is just as lost unto me as keeper of secrets. These titles have been passed from one to another, and while the title of headmaster or headmistress shall go on, the role of keeper shall die with me._

_I have attended, and still attend, this great institution since the time upon which I had lived only eleven winters, and I shall leave this place before completing my last year so as to marry. I was chosen by my master at the age of thirteen, and he has since passed some months ago. The chamber within which I leave this book was the founder's library, wherein they guarded all great knowledge. I have learned much from these tomes, and, should thou wish no harm, I hope ye learns as I have. I have lived the past three years within the silent tower, and have roamed the hidden corridors often. I hope ye, too, will take up home there, as it shall likely serve you as well as it has I. _

_I shall, herein, list those duties and responsibilities of keeper, and the secrets of being such. I hope ye are a good soul, as I would never wish this knowledge unto a cruel being._

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry found himself lost in the makeshift manual/journal of Chronus Black, and had read the whole thing in earnest, forgetting about the world around him entirely. At the back, on the last page, was the magical vow one had to make in order to become the keeper, and though he didn't say it, he found himself almost wanting to. With a sigh, he set the book down where it had been when he'd come in, and rubbed his eyes. He needed to think about this before he jumped in. This was not the sort of thing he could be a Gryffindor about.

He stood up, stretching to crack his back, and turned to the shelves of books. He wandered over to them, perusing the titles and running a hand across the old leather. His fingers ran over something soft, which he discovered to be a book bound with white rabbit fur, rather than leather. His curiosity had him pulling the titleless book from the shelf to page through it. It was a journal of some sort, written by what appeared to have been a traveler with a penchant for staying in areas outside civilization. He closed it, but carried it with him as he continued looking, his eyes eventually falling upon a large, dark brown tome titled: The Nature of Runes. It was huge, larger than his torso, and he expected it to be heavy. It wasn't, as lightening charms of some sort made it no heavier than the furry journal beneath his arms, though the size was a bit awkward.

There was a couch for reading not too far from the desk, and he carried the books over to it. He set the journal aside, and began reading the larger book, his eyes devouring the knowledge within as he became lost in a world of symbols and power.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry groaned, rolling over and stretching. His foot pushed against something, making it fall away and a loud thump fill his ears. He opened his eyes to investigate and realized it was the rune book. With a hum he picked it up and set it up on the couch. He yawned, revealing viciously sharp teeth and a black tongue. He looked around, realizing for the first time that there was no way to tell time in this place. He pulled his arm from the armor holster and cast a quick tempus, groaning again when it showed him the time. It was already lunchtime. He cursed and ran a hand over his face. It was Wednesday, so he had already missed Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, and Charms. He had double Potions after lunch, and upon realizing that, he leapt to his feet.

The books were left behind on the couch as he rushed to the door, glancing back only once before leaving. He ran quickly over the moss and was in the water in no time at all. He didn't bother to come up at all as he swam straight to and through the passageway and chamber; pushing his body like a bullet in the water. Then he was running through passageway after passageway and practically leaping up the ladder when he got to it. The tower was still empty when he arrived, the twins likely in the Great Hall, and he was quick to get dressed and cast drying and cleaning charms on himself. He nearly ran out the door without his glamour, remembering to slip on the metal band only at the last moment. He pushed himself to reach Gryffindor tower, and was forced to slow down once he got there, lest those few in the common room notice his unusual speed. He waved to a few people as he jogged up the stairs to snap up his book bag.

Then it was a race against time again as he left the red and gold tower and moved as fast as he could towards the dungeons without arousing suspicion. A mantra of _come on come on come on_ pounded through his head, and he had only just made it into the room when the bell rang and the door slammed closed behind him. Snape sent him a dark look as he slipped into place beside Neville and he ducked his head. The man didn't say a word to him though, and simply began with the lesson, standing from his desk and glowering at them all threateningly.

"Today we shall begin brewing the Sanguinem Patrispotion. When it is complete, I shall place your cauldrons under stasis, as this will require you to finish it on Monday. You will be wearing dragonhide gloves as you work today, as the potion requires the usage of both wartcap powder, and a leaf from the venomous tentacula. We shall go over the instructions twice, and then you may gather your ingredients and begin." A hand raised into the air. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Will we be using this potion ourselves?" Snape nodded.

"If you so wish, you may use the potion upon completion, however, doing so will require the addition of three drops of blood, and as such, it is optional. Does anyone else here, aside from Mr. Malfoy, or Ms. Granger," Hermione put down her hand with a huff. "know the purpose of this potion?" It was, surprisingly, Neville who raised his hand. "Longbottom?" He swallowed nervously, but didn't stutter when he answered.

"When applied to a piece of parchment covered in charcoal, it creates a pedigree type family tree of the person whose blood has been added, but only through the paternal sides. It goes back more generations depending on the quality. If it's brewed perfectly, then it can go back as far as sixteen generations, including the user's."

"Correct. You will, in fact, be graded based upon how many generations are shown on your parchment post-completion after it has been tested, either by yourself, or me. Now, moving on..." He turned to the board to begin writing the instructions and Harry found he wasn't even annoyed that the man would have awarded points for that answer had Neville been a Slytherin. He looked over the instructions as they were written in excitement. He knew nothing of his family beyond his parent's names and random facts about them. It would be nice to at least learn who his grandparents had been, even if only the ones on his father's side. He smiled, and made a note to himself to be careful with this one.

He wanted it to be as good as possible.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry had discovered fairly quickly, that the majority of Neville's troubles in potions class, or his other studies, stemmed from a mild case of dyslexia. He would often get the ingredients or instructions wrong, yet, he was a master in the art of ingredient preparation. When cutting something up, he understood the difference between chopped, sliced, shredded, and so forth perfectly, and his pieces were often of perfect and matching sizes. He was likewise good at measuring out, so long as Harry supplied the numbers and whatnot verbally. As such, so long as Harry was the one to collect the ingredients, and put them in the cauldron, their potions generally turned out well. Most of Harry's troubles had, it seemed, stemmed from his partnership in this class with Ron, coupled with the stress of Snape's hatred. Lately however, the man had been civil, and so, without that added stress, and while working with Neville, Harry found that making potions was not as difficult as it had once seemed. He would never be a master at it, certainly, and his potions, while above-average, would never be perfect; but now he was more likely to get an Exceeds Expectations in the class rather than the Acceptable he had once only just barely achieved.

At the end of the double period, their potion was only slightly off-tone from the blue depicted in the book, and Harry found himself smiling. Snape hadn't banished their potion or taken points, and the bicorn had even made a pleased sort of noise when he had passed by their workstation. As Harry wandered off to arithmancy, he found himself wondering when potions had stopped being his most favorite class. Arithmancy was relatively boring, if stressful, and Harry was flooded with relief when they were allowed to leave for dinner. He was walking to it when someone called out to him.

"Boy!" He was surprised to see that it was the same portrait from before, as he was sure this wasn't where he had passed it the first time, and when he looked around he was even more surprised to discover himself alone in the hall. He could have sworn he had just been walking with a number of others, but there was no one to be seen. Confusion filled him, but he brushed it off, and turned his attentions to the portrait. _Frode_, his mind whispered.

"Hello sir." The old man smiled.

"Hello there young man, how are you this fine evening? No longer angry, it would seem." Harry nodded.

"No. Just hungry." Frode chuckled.

"I suppose you would be, it is dinner time at the moment. I don't mean to keep you from your food, however, it seemed to me that something was troubling you. You may not be angry, but you do appear a bit down." His face had turned more serious as he spoke, and Harry wondered a moment on if the man simply liked to help people, as both now and the only other time they had spoken was while he was troubled. He thought about what to say, and eventually chose to share his troubles. He had a feeling the man wouldn't tell anyone, and while he considered the twins to be excellent confidants, he didn't like to burden them with his problems when he could help it.

"I... I think I may have lost a good friend." It was the first time he had admitted it aloud. He had tried telling himself that he and Ron could patch things up, but something in him knew this was it. His throat tightened around a painful knot. The portrait's eyes softened.

"And how is it this occurred, little one?" Something in him clenched painfully at the man's address, and he didn't know why. It took him a moment to speak, his voice cracking just slightly at first.

"He... He refuses to see people for who they are and not what house they're in, or to believe that they don't have a good reason for acting a certain way. I'm willing to look past all that, but he isn't, and I think..." He swallowed. "I _know_, that I won't ever be able to change his mind." Frode nodded.

"An insincere friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind. I am sorry for your predicament, but for all that you are hurt now, it will heal with time. I doubt you shall ever forget this broken friendship of yours, but you will move on. Besides, you are young yet, and there are many more friends to be made." Harry smiled bitterly. He didn't feel much better, but he knew he would, and the portrait's words had helped. He looked down and took a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak as he looked back up. Yet the portrait no longer moved. It had reverted once more to looking much like a muggle painting again. Footsteps caught his ears, and he looked to see a group of young Hufflepuff girls walking down the end of the hall and giggling. He shrugged to himself, and whispered his thanks before heading off to dinner, though he doubted that Frode could hear him now.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The next meeting was just after dinner, and Harry showed up early to meet with Snape, who had told him he would like to supervise every meeting, rather than just the ones that Harry felt needed supervision. He nodded at the man, who stood in the hallway, and began walking back and forth before the wall. Snape watched him curiously, and raised an eyebrow once the door had appeared. The room was exactly the same as it had been, at least on the surface, and he stood by while the professor looked around and even wandered over to eye the various texts.

"This is an acceptable space." It was the only comment the man offered, though, coming from him, it was like the highest of praise. Harry smiled. "From where shall I observe?" Harry walked over to the mirrors and slid his hand against one. The mirror slid open to reveal a doorway, and Harry led Snape in. The room was only a couple meters wide, but ran in length of the entire wall. There was a few comfortable sitting areas, with chairs, couches, and tables, and it revealed that the mirrors were see-through on this side. He turned back to his professor.

"Not all of them trust you, so I thought it might be better if they didn't know you were here until they need to." Snape didn't appear insulted by this, and simply nodded.

"I shall remain back here then." His voice was neutral, accepting; perhaps resigned. Harry paused.

"Professor?" The man hummed and turned to look at him. "Thank you." His voice was sincere, and Snape looked genuinely startled at it. Harry felt guilty when he realized that his professor had never expected to be thanked. His face fell blank and his dark eyes scrutinized Harry carefully.

"You are welcome." Harry smiled, and after a moment nodded, feeling awkward, and moved to leave the back room and shut the mirror door. "Mr. Potter." He started, and looked up into the man's black eyes, noting the strange, unreadable expression on his face. "When outside the hearing of others, you may call me Severus." His heart jumped into his throat, unable to fully comprehend the tone of the man's voice or all the various and possible reasons behind that one statement. It took him a moment to respond.

"Only if you'll call me Harry." The professor nodded sharply and turned away to move towards one of the armchairs, and Harry knew he had been dismissed. He shut the door and waited; sitting on the platform.

The others came, one by one and in small groups; with the Slytherins being the last to arrive once more. He waited until they were all there, and then asked the room to vanish the door. He stood, clearing his throat, and began to call out their names one at a time. If anyone was surprised by the roll-call, they didn't show it, and after ensuring that no one was missing, Harry moved on.

"Last week Malfoy brought it to my attention that we might benefit from learning things aside from what we had initially planned." Several pairs of eyes landed on the blonde. "He mentioned survival spells, things for camping and looking after yourself and the like, which I thought was an excellent idea. I'd like those of you who are in Ravenclaw to do some research in the library over the next week. Hermione, you too. You lot are in there often enough that a little extra research will likely go unnoticed. If any of you already know some spells I'd like to speak with you after today's meeting. Mind magics and the animagus transformation were also mentioned." Several people looked excited at the prospect. "We will discuss the animagus bit at a later date, but in regards to mind magics, I think that's something we can work on. I myself am currently in the process of learning Occlumency. We won't be learning the advanced bits here, but I think we can cover the basics. From here on out, the last half hour of our meetings will be devoted to meditation. You'll need to continue it on your own at least once a day, but it should help with focus, and emotional control. Meditation is also the first step towards becoming an animagus, so if we decide to go into that later, then this is where we'll start. Anyone have a problem with this?" No one spoke out. "Any questions?" There were none, so he continued. "Very well. Today we'll be covering the spell Anapneo, which is used to clear blocked airways, and is a relatively simple spell, as well as the spells Protrudit and Murmurationis Lineam. These are also known as the banishing spell, and the caterwauling charm, respectively. The banishing charm will banish objects away from you, and can be useful in a fight because you can use it to fling your opponent away. The caterwauling charm is a simple perimeter spell that will create loud, screeching noises when crossed, and as such, is an excellent alarm spell. We'll be using golems for the airway spell, and then you will practice the other two on objects. Let's begin."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

"Breath in deep, but don't hold it. Let it out gently. Focus on your breath. The in and the out. Don't think about it. Don't think about anything. Just think only of your breath..." Harry cast a tempus, and then nodded to himself. "Alright. That's enough." People began opening their eyes, some yawning or stretching, many looking very relaxed; even the Slytherins. "You all did excellently today. We'll be meeting at the same time next week, and we'll discuss a name for our group then." Most of them began gathering their things and leaving, and he realized after a moment just how similar this was to a real class. A few people came up to talk to him about the survival spells they knew, and he wrote down their names and began coming up with a schedule in his mind for when they could teach. Seamus, surprisingly, knew a great number of survival spells, which he had apparently learned from an Uncle he often went camping with during the summer.

Soon everyone was gone, and Harry had nearly forgotten about Snape until the sound of the mirror sliding open hit his ears. The man looked relatively more relaxed than was usual, and he smiled nervously at him, only now realizing that he very much concerned as to what the professor thought of his teaching. There was approval in those dark eyes when he met them, and he tried not to let the pride he felt swelling up inside show on his face.

"You did well." The man smirked. "Five points to Gryffindor." Harry's jaw dropped, and the other slipped past him and out of the room without a word. Snape had never, not once in the time he had attended Hogwarts, awarded points to Gryffindor. He let out a whoosh of breath and then headed to the cushions.

He needed to sit down.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The next few days passed Harry by almost without notice. He was kept so busy by classes and the like that he barely noticed when potions class arrived again. He signed his name on the list and added blood to his potion, which he had received a decent grade upon. Yet the potion and charcoal-covered paper found themselves left in his trunk, as he never seemed to have a moment of free time. The stress of it all began to mount little by little as he was kept from the lake and its' inhabitants, from the secret library, and even from spending time with his friends.

He didn't realise how bad the stress had gotten until just over two weeks had passed, and he sat in DADA on Friday after lunch. He had done well since that first class on ensuring he didn't speak out or piss her off, and as such had avoided any further detentions. But the more that Umbridge spoke now, the more and more it grated on him. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard disguised into sounding like something sweet enough to make you puke. But the disguise wasn't quite good enough, and so the more she spoke, the more and more irritated he found himself. He wasn't sure when that irritation had spilled over into rage, but he was hardly aware of it when his claws had broken through the glamour and sliced into the table, digging deeply into it without effort and threatening to break it apart with much more pressure. Murderous intent poured off him in waves and he growled unendingly in a tone too low for human years to catch and glared downwards at his desk; shoulders hunched.

"Professor Umbridge?" The woman started, and turned an annoyed glance towards the class at being interrupted. Her expression changed when she realized it was Malfoy who had spoken, but Harry was barely of all of this, no longer paying attention to the world around him.

"Yes, my dear? Did you have a question?" The blonde nodded.

"Of a sort, madam. My friend Harry isn't feeling too well. I was wondering if I might escort him to the nurse?" Her eyes flicked from him to Harry's hunched over form while the Gryffindors all looked at Malfoy with narrowed eyes; those not part of the D.A. (the Defense Association as they had decided to call it) immediately thinking he was up to no good. Those who were in the D.A. were aware of the friendly terms between he and Harry and instead turned their eyes to the green-eyed teen. Hunched over as he was, they couldn't see his face, but his skin was pale and he shook. Umbridge, too, seemed to see this, and while she might never have let him off to the nurse had he been the one to ask, Malfoy tended to suck up to her and so had earned a place in her favor.

"Very well. Try to hurry back when you're done." She turned to her desk to write him a note, and he carefully pulled Harry up and led him from the room. He waited to speak until they were a ways away from the classroom.

"Harry." He had never before addressed him by his first name, and that fact had his eyes, still dark with anger, snapping up to meet his face immediately. The blonde pulled a light blue potion from his robes, pulled the stopper and held it out to him. "Drink this." He did so at once, recognizing the color as belonging to a calming potion, and sighed as it took effect right away. His anger drained out of him and left a calm, coolness in his limbs. He groaned. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks Draco." A blonde eyebrow raised in a manner so much like Snape that Harry would have laughed if not for the dulling effects of the potion.

"Since when did I give you permission to use my name?" He smirked.

"You gave me permission the moment you called me Harry." Draco snorted.

"I suppose I did then." They smiled at each other for a moment, and then the lighter haired teen's face grew grim. "You wear a glamour." Harry tensed, in spite of the potion. Draco's words were a statement, not a question or an accusation. He knew it as fact. "I saw the claws. You were digging them into your desk and then they just wavered and vanished when you pulled away." Harry looked away from him, body tense, mind running through options. "I won't tell." The words were whispered, and when he looked back he met honest grey eyes. It surprised him how child-like Draco looked at that moment, with his Slytherin pureblood mask pulled away. He stared at him for several seconds, then nodded once, sharply. He received a small smile as a result. Then the mask was back in place and Mal- Draco, was once again the picture of all things a pureblood heir was meant to be. "Go do whatever you need to to not kill Umbridge. I'll see you later." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder and began walking away.

"Draco!" He looked back at him. "Thank you." The blonde nodded and returned to the class. Harry ran for the doors, invisibility cloak already out of his pocket and wrapped around him. He wouldn't have very long to calm himself in the lake, but it would be enough.

He passed a couple people in the halls, and Hagrid once he was outside, but no one noticed him, and soon he was in a spot near the lake well hidden enough to leave his things. He took off everything but the armor, and was shifting into the Mishipeshu without even thinking about it. The armor contorted to his form as he changed, and soon the under armour covered his entire torso and neck, with holes along his spine for the spikes. The darker pieces covered his back, sides, neck, top of his head, and the top parts of the beginning of all his limbs; tail included. It covered enough to still work as armor, but left enough bare to not impede his movement.

He sighed happily as he made his way into the lake, and swam to the merpeople's village quickly. Many called out greetings to him as he arrived, the words making sense to him now though they still retained their musical quality. The kids were already in the middle of a game when he arrived at their usual place for playing, and he laid upon the lakebed to watch them; his stress draining away through the sounds of their laughter.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

He departed the lake in time for his evening classes, and during lunch it was announced that Astronomy class had been cancelled that night due to cloudy weather. He suddenly found himself with a bit of free time. He remembered the potion then, and decided to go ahead with it. He had a little studying he needed to do, but it wouldn't take too long. He found himself nearly dancing his way up to Gryffindor tower, despite the fact this particular potion only went up through the paternal sides of the family. It would reveal his parent's names, then his father's parents, his paternal grandfather's parents, and so on. Because of that, he would only learn the names of his grandparents on his father's side of the family, but he was excited all the same.

He knew so little about his parents as it was, and treasured everything he learned. Yet he knew nothing beyond that. He'd never heard anything about his grandparents, or any member of the Potter family aside from his father, so while his potion wasn't going to show him as much as he wanted it too, he would take what he could get. He bounced up the last set of stairs and said the password cheerfully once he had reached the fat lady's portrait, sliding through right away. The twins were in a corner, bent close to each other and scheming, and he waved at them as he passed.

The dorm room was empty, and he hummed a tune as he gathered the paper and bottle from his trunk. He settled comfortably onto his bed and popped the container open. It only had a couple teaspoons worth of potion mixed with his blood in it, and he poured all of it into the center of the paper. It was sucked up like a sponge into the parchment, the charcoal disappearing along with it, and then words began to appear in black. They etched themselves into the paper in an elegant script. His name appeared at the bottom, though it was odd, then two names above that, and two above that, until there were eleven lines of text including his own. Had he noticed how many generations were shown, he would have been proud of himself, and the quality of potion he had created. But as it was, his eyes had not yet left the two names listed above his own.

He stared at them, starkly black against the off-white page, his face pale and his eyes wide. Shock filled him, chilling his bones to ice, as something not unlike dread pooled in the pit of his stomach and his hands began to tremble. For on the page were not the names James Potter and Lily Evans, though he imagined the Lily on the paper and Lily Evans were one and the same. Instead it said, in neat, beautifully devastating calligraphy:

_Lily Malfoy _and_ Sirius Black._

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

**Sanguinem Patris- Father's blood (a potion which traces the magical blood through the paternal side of the family)**

**Anapneo- To breath (a spell used to clear blocked airways)**

**Protrudit- Propel (a spell to banish items or people away from the caster)**

**Murmurationis Lineam- Screaming Line (a spell to create a magical line around an area or object that creates a loud, scream-like noise when crossed)**

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

I did warn you. Just saying. Looking forward to the reviews on this one.

Also. Don't ask about Lily. Not explaining. Nope. No way. No how. You guys have to wait a while for that one. If you're going to speculate though, keep in mind that Malfoy is her MAIDEN name, meaning her father was a Malfoy. And she's too close in age to Lucius for that to be a father-daughter thing, so don't even go there. She's not his sister either, though the ages would allow for that. This is just one of those things you have to wait for, Harry won't be figuring everything out right away, since that's completely unrealistic, and you're not either.

I did warn you though. Extensively. You can never say that I didn't.

Also, as far as the translations at the bottom go, some are from the HP wiki, and anything original is translated and made with Google, so, it sometimes ends up butchered horribly. Not gonna change that, because I only speak English and a handful of various words in Spanish and Japanese, and some curses in Tagalog [because of my dad (step-dad) and his family]. As such, without Google translate, or money, I can do nothing.

I hope you lot all continue on from here, and I look forward to your reviews. Thank you all so much for the support you've given me up till this point. It's truly inspiring for me as a writer to see so many people enjoying the things I come up with. I send you my gratitude and love and a digital hug no matter where you are. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, the Energize W.I.P. Awards are coming up. Nominations are happening right now, and I look forward to seeing who makes the list.


	7. Part One, Chapter Six

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

0.0 Wow. Everyone really liked the last chapter. I'm honestly surprised. I don't know why, but for some reason I expected you all to hate it. I'm glad you didn't though. Very glad. You were all so surprised too. (^u^)

The review response on this story has just been amazing. The reviews increase notably with every chapter, and I think I've only gotten one or two bad ones. The rest have been good or helpful criticism. Thank you all so much for that.

The only complaint I really seem to have gotten is my responding publically to reviewers at the beginning of my chapters. I hadn't realized how much space it was beginning to take up, but looking back on those chapters now I see it. I'm just getting too many reviews to realistically keep doing that. Beyond that, I've had a couple people tell me that it is also against ffnet's rules to do so. I read through the rules, and they're really a little vague on that bit, but I've decided that it's better safe than sorry.

Thus, I will move to responding to reviews privately from now on, and I am going to edit the previous chapters to remove my review responses that are in them. I'm not sure how long I can continue to respond to reviews even privately, as the numbers go up with every chapter. If I begin to get too many, I may not be able to respond individually.

If, however, I have multiple people commenting on the same thing, or asking the same question, then I will do my best to include some sort of explanation or answer in my author notes. Once again I want to thank you all for the support, and I'm sorry for any inconvenience I've caused with my responses, or by my stopping them now.

Also, there's a scene this chapter that a friend told me came out sounding very differently than I intended for it to, so my author note at the end helps explain how I meant for it to feel.

Aside from that, we get to look into Harry's process of thought this chapter, someone finally tells Harry to think for himself, and we hear from Voldemort (sort of) for the first time. This is where I think things start to pick up a little, and we only have two more chapters left after this before the end of Part One. Then it'll be off to Part Two and all that that entails…

One more thing, you may have noticed that the poll has been closed. I did say that I had no plans to warn anyone. The number of voters has been tapering off lately, and there was someone far enough in the lead that I could make a guess at that not really changing. I will review our top three poll winners during chapter 8, as it is the last chapter of Part One.

Speaking of Part One, I have, officially, finished typing up Part Two, and it is 9 chapters long. That, plus Part One's 8 and the Introduction will mean 18 chapters by Part Three. I don't know for sure, but I think you can take this to mean that the various Parts will all have similar numbers, though at this point we could have anywhere from only 5 to as many as 7 parts. It simply depends on where I choose to take the story. Hope this helps everyone get a better visual on length. Also, one last note, based upon the poll winner, we may see our first meeting as early as during Part Three, depending on how things go, so it'll finally start to feel like a crossover by then.

'Raises glass' Here's hoping you enjoy.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_Dear Kitten,_

_How are you doing? How are classes? Caused any good mischief lately? You haven't sent me any letters in a while. I imagine you must be busy, what with this being your O.W.L. year and all. I could help you with your studies, if you want. I wasn't so bad in school, after all. You could ask me anything._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Snuffles_

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_Dear Kitten,_

_You never did respond to my last letter. Is everything alright? Is that Umbridge woman making things difficult? You could always ask Snivellus to bring your letters along. I know you get on well enough with him, though I can't imagine how. I'll admit you've got me worried._

_Reply when you can,_

_Snuffles_

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_Kitten,_

_I talked to Snivellus. He said he didn't have anything from you, and Umbridge isn't monitoring the mail. Are you alright? Did I upset you somehow?_

_Please reply,_

_Snuffles_

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_Harry, please talk to me._

_Snuffles_

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_I'm sorry. I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry. Please, please talk to me. I just found you, I don't want to lose you too. Please tell me what it is I've done. I'll do anything. Are you mad at me for insulting Snape? I'll stop. I promise. I won't ever insult him again no matter what. Just please write back._

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry stared down at the latest letter he had received that morning, guilt tearing into his heart with merciless claws. The writing on this one was messy, the ink smeared, and there were spots on it that Harry suspected may well have come from tears. He closed his eyes, laying his head down upon the desk and telling himself his eyes didn't burn. He was in the secret library. He had taken to finding his way here whenever he could. He had also taken to sneaking into the twins' dorm room and sleeping next to them at night.

They hadn't said a word to him about it; just accepting his presence with open arms and warm smiles. They knew something was troubling him, but they hadn't asked or pestered. They simply held him close at night and soothed him when he needed them to. It was much preferred to the endless questions he seemed to receive from Hermione.

He rubbed his eyes. He wasn't angry at Sirius. He didn't think Sirius even knew he was his son. The man talked about James and the similarities between him and Harry too much for him to think that he suspected James wasn't his father. He had been upset, yes, when thinking of Sirius and Lily betraying James in the way they must have done for them to be his parents, but he found that while the anger towards his mother had remained, the anger towards Sirius had quickly been washed away. He didn't think he could ever remain angry towards Sirius, towards his _father_ for very long at all. The man had been through too much, was too traumatized by his time in Azkaban for Harry to feel any kind of harsh emotion towards him for long. It was part of the reason he had never been angry with Sirius for his actions all those years ago; for choosing revenge over Harry. He imagined he might have reacted much the same, if his temper were to have any say in the matter. It was a horribly Gryffindor reaction, he thought bitterly. He wondered if his heritage had anything to do with the sorting hat's desire to put him in the house of snakes. Had it wanted the same thing for Sirius? Or had it sorted him into Gryffindor as quickly as it had sorted Ron or Draco?

He ran a hand across the letters, moving them in an arc of sorts and closed his eyes. He hadn't meant to stop talking to Sirius. He just didn't know what to say. If the man really didn't know, then how was he to tell him? How was he to reveal what he knew? Not to mention all the questions he had. Besides that, this didn't feel like the sort of thing that should be spoken of in letters. He needed to see and speak with him face to face. Then there were all the questions he had that Sirius wouldn't be able to answer. The questions about his mother's heritage. The only person he could think of, in fact, that might be able to answer those questions, would be Lucius Malfoy; and he wasn't sure about trying. Lord Malfoy had never come across as kind the few times he had met him, but then, neither had many of those in Slytherin he had slowly come to know. Those in his year were usually fairly kind beneath their masks, and Lucius Malfoy had had much longer to perfect his facade than his son. There was no way of knowing for certain what may lay beneath or where his true loyalties lay.

The only people who might know would be Draco, as his son, and Severus, who had gone to school with him and served under Voldemort with the man. Draco would be suspicious if he started asking questions about his dad and family, and if he went to Severus, then he would have to say why he was asking. He had learned very quickly that the only person the potion master despised more than James Potter was Sirius Black. He had come to be friends of a sort with the grumpy git, and he had no idea how the knowledge of his true parentage might affect that. He growled at himself. Severus was better than that. He might have hated Harry originally, but upon getting to know each other, and having to trust one another as a result of the occlumency lessons, that hate had faded away almost immediately. He didn't think it would really come back.

Would it?

He groaned and banged his head against the desk repeatedly.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_She was in a corridor, sliding along on her belly. The cool stone felt good against her scales as she moved along them. She slipped under a door into a room with blue lights. There were rows and rows here of shelves filled with blue orbs. Her master wanted one of them. She needed to touch it. To see if she could. She was part of her master, and so might be able to take it. _

_Her nose suddenly flared with the scent of human and she stilled. There was a man walking near the shelves. He was tall, his hair the color of fire. He was the parent of the flame hatchlings. She moved towards him, and Harry cried out._

_**No!**__ She froze, startled by the command, and he froze with her, startled at her obeying. __**Don't hurt him,**__ he pleaded. She nodded in silence, slithering back to hide beneath one of the shelves while the man looked about, searching for intruders. _

_**As you wish it.**__ Her voice slithered through his mind. __**Master will not be pleased.**_

_**Why do you listen, if it betrays your master**__? He could not help but to ask, the burning curiosity he had come to associate with his animagus form churning through him relentlessly._

_**Because you wish it, brother-mine.**_

_And the world faded to black._

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry jerked awake, finding himself on the couch in the secret library yet again. His heart pounded against his ribcage and he sucked in breath after breath as though he were drowning. Wide green eyes stared up at the golden ceiling above him and he shuddered.

It wasn't a dream. He knew it wasn't. What he had seen was real. Terrifyingly, horrifically, real. He shifted into a sitting position slowly, cautiously, and looked down at himself. He closed his eyes as relief flooded his form like cold water. He had nearly expected to see the body of a snake when he had looked down. He sighed deeply, and stood up. There were several piles of books situated around the couch; books he had read or was reading. He maneuvered around them and headed to the door. He didn't know why his occlumency walls hadn't stopped this from happening, but right now it didn't matter.

He needed to speak to Dumbledore.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Dumbledore looked carefully at him with dark blue eyes, twinkle gone. This moment, he no longer seemed like the indestructible leader of the light to Harry, so much as just a very tired, very old, normal man. He looked as though the weight of all his years was currently bearing down upon his shoulders, and Harry felt horribly about imposing his problems on him, regardless of the fact that he needed to know. He had told the man of his vision, and of how his relatively good progress with occlumency should have prevented it, and every word seemed to age Dumbledore more and more before his very eyes.

"I see, and you're certain she referred to you as a sibling?" He nodded.

"She said _brother-mine_. She... She listened to me sir. I've had snakes obey me in the past, but... Nagini is Voldemort's _familiar_ isn't she? There's no reason why she should _ever_ listen to me..." Dumbledore nodded.

"You are correct, my boy. By all accounts, if what you saw was real, and I have reason to believe that it was, then she should not have followed your order. Still, I would count her strange actions as a blessing, since, had she not obeyed, Arthur might well be dying from her venom as we speak." Harry swallowed. "Her presence in the room you spoke of is upsetting..."

"What was that room, Professor?" The old man suddenly smiled, a twinkle in his eyes.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with my boy. It is a tale for another time, I'm afraid." Curiosity burned in his mind, but he nodded obediently. If he knew nothing else about the man, then he knew he was not likely to share information with him until he was good and ready to. He sighed and instead turned his eyes towards the golden perch to the side of the headmaster's desk.

Fawkes stared silently at him with dark eyes. His plumage, still as bloody red and beautiful as always, glinted almost gold in the sunlight streaming through the window. The phoenix had been watching him since he had entered the office. Before, the bird would occasionally fly to him to be pet, or at least coo in his direction, but now, he was quiet and kept away. Harry swallowed. He imagined, being a dark being as he now was, that such a creature of light probably wouldn't want much to do with him anymore. He forced his eyes away, pushing down the inexplicable grief that seemed to well up inside him.

He nearly jumped when his eyes met the headmaster's. The man was watching him carefully, and the knowledge in those eyes made him tense. It had been so long since he had faced the man before him, that he had forgotten the way he seemed able to look right through a person, as though he knew all their secrets; all the things that made them. His heart beat faster, his breath coming quicker.

"I'm glad you came to me, Harry. I would hope you might come to me with anything that troubles you." His heart panged.

"Of course sir." The old man smiled gently.

"Do you need anything else my boy? I'm afraid I have a bit of paperwork to take care of; one of the more unfortunate parts of being responsible for a school." The man turned a smoldering glare upon one of the stacks of paper on his desk, and Harry held back a laugh. He hesitated a moment as the amusement died. A feeling filled him, singing to him from deep inside his bones, and he knew he was at a crossroads. He met the headmaster's eyes and swallowed.

"No sir. There's nothing else."

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry sniffed at the air carefully, powerful muscles moving his large form forward silently. His whiskers twitched; green eyes with slit pupils narrowing as terrifying teeth were bared. He could smell deer nearby. He crept along, his sharp eyes seeing through the leaves and branches of the forbidden forest to the herd eating in the clearing before him. Deer were not uncommon in the forbidden forest, though the presence of such _mundane_ creatures was almost comical when considering some of the other things this forest hid within itself.

His body tensed, claws scratching soundlessly into the earth beneath his toes. It was rare these days, that he might choose to hunt in the forest rather than go to the lake, but there was a sort of release he gained through hunting that the calming waters and helpful presence of merpeople just couldn't give him. He needed that release right now.

Like a spring suddenly released from tension, his body jolted forwards, barreling effortlessly through the branches. The deer scattered, but they were much too slow for him, and his target had very little chance of escape. He pounced upon his chosen buck and the creature went crashing into the ground. It struggled violently even as his mouth closed around its' throat. He snapped his jaws shut, the air around him filling momentarily with the sharp crunch of its' neck being shattered, and the prey fell still. His claws tore into it, ripping the hide from the meat; his human mind still uncomfortable with the thought of consuming fur, and he dug in.

His fangs tore easily through the bloody meat, and he swallowed bite after bite, pausing occasionally to lick the blood from his whiskers. Soon he had consumed nearly all of the torso, leaving the meat of the legs, neck, head, and hindquarters. He could smell wolves in the trees, and he left the rest of the meat for them. This was a common occurrence when he hunted. The wolves were proud creatures that generally preferred to hunt their own meals, but this small pack of only three or four was perfectly happy to devour his table scraps, as their territory was smaller and yielded less food than the territories belonging to the larger packs. He moved away from the deer's carcass, and lay on the ground cleaning his face and paws. The wolves waited a moment before venturing out, and ate carefully, making sure he was done and would allow them.

He paid them no mind, too busy with his grooming, and soon enough their hunger had them tearing into the meal in earnest, eating everything; even the hide. He knew from past occurrences that they would leave all but the bones, aside from the few they would take with them when they left. The wind shifted, and a new scent hit his nose. He had smelled it before, as the forest was filled with it, but had yet to identify it. He looked up.

The sight of the centaur surprised him, but he should have known he would come across them sooner or later. He was even more surprised when he recognized this one. While the horse half of the being was a brown in color, his hair was a golden blonde; his eyes startlingly blue. It was the same centaur that had let him ride it out of the forest in first year, after witnessing Voldemort, possessing Quirrell as he was, feed from the unicorn. He did not recall the centaur's name, if it had even given it to him, but he remembered that there had been another of the male's tribe who had been rather cross with him for allowing a human upon his back. There was recognition in those blue eyes, and he understood that, being what he was, the centaur had a much closer connection to magic, and likely knew exactly who he was, regardless of him being in his animagus form. He stood, lowering his head in respect, and the centaur smiled.

"I believed I might see you again, little one, though the stars did not foretell of your change in form." Harry shifted, the sounds of cracking and creaking bones filling the clearing as his body shrunk. Like with the merpeople, he felt no embarrassment at being nude before the centaur, knowing it wasn't something that mattered to the other. Humans were a strange bunch really, the only ones who honestly felt the need to cover their bodies. But then, he wasn't entirely human anymore…

"I remember you, from before. I never got the chance to thank you for helping me." He smiled hesitantly.

"Your gratitude is welcome, young one, though an unusual gesture, when coming from a wizard." Harry frowned.

"Not all wizards are the same, you know." The centaur nodded.

"Perhaps not, but there are enough who are too alike in their thinking." Harry sighed.

"I suppose you're right about that." The other came closer, stopping once he was near and lowering himself until the horse half of his body was laying down. Harry absently wondered how centaurs slept. He sat down next to him, their eyes still at very different levels, and the centaur looked down at him.

"I am called Firenze, by my people. You may call me the same, if you so wish." Harry smiled.

"Only if you call me Harry." He was reminded of Severus then, and how he had said the exact same thing to him, and looked away.

"You are troubled." He glanced back up at Firenze, but said nothing. "That is expected, I imagine. These are troubling times indeed, as Mars begins his rise through the heavens." The centaur turned his gaze skyward then, to the stars above them, and Harry followed his example. He knew that centaurs used the sky to predict the future, but he couldn't see what the other did. Still, the sparkling stars were beautiful. It was so different, to look at them here, where there were so many in different shades of white, blue, purple, and even red, than it was to look at the few he could see from the Dursley's home; clouded from his sight at they were by smog and other man-caused gases that filled the air. "There will be war soon, when Mars reaches his peak. Your place in it though, is still undecided, though your choices will influence how it ends, and, most likely, how long Mars adorns our skies." He looked at the being.

"But I already have my place." He frowned in confusion as those blue eyes looked to him. They were filled with so much wisdom; more, even, than he had seen in Dumbledore's eyes, despite the fact that the centaur was much younger.

"You believe that only because you know so little. As you learn, your loyalties may change." Harry's eyes narrowed, his pupils slitting in anger as his tail twitched irritably.

"Voldemort killed my mother. I would never side with him." The centaur didn't seem upset by his anger, merely looked at him calmly.

"He did." The centaur paused, turning his eyes back to the stars. "If a man tried to kill you, if you knew that you were going to die by his hand, would you kill him, in defense of yourself?" Harry blanched, having not expected the question, and turned his eyes down in thought.

"I... I would. If it would keep myself alive, I would kill him." He felt cold as he said the words, not truly wanting to speak them, yet knowing it was the truth. He didn't want to die, and if killing someone was the only way to keep himself alive, he would do it. The other nodded, seeming to have expected that answer.

"And what of his wife and children, who know nothing of his crimes against you? Do you not think they might wish you dead for having stolen their loved one away?" He stared up at him with wide eyes, and swallowed, finding himself unable to speak. The centaur looked down at him. "Voldemort believed you would be his death. He sought to defeat you before you would be capable of such a feat. He killed James Potter, because he knew the man would not back down, but he did not have to give your mother the chance to back away. He asked her to step aside, did he not? Why do such a thing when he could simply have killed her?"

"Even if that might be worth questioning, it still doesn't make up for all the people Voldemort has tortured and killed." Harry glared. The centaur nodded.

"No. It does not. But you must realize that Voldemort's mind is broken. His involvement in the black arts has changed him; altered him. It has driven him into insanity. Was there not a time, when he was still sane? There was a reason so many flocked to him, and to his ideals. They regret their choices only now that his mind has been lost, and his ideals and goals altered. Yet their own desires, are still much the same as they were when they joined him. It was not just purebloods who chose to follow Voldemort during his first reign. There were half bloods, and many creatures; my own people among them. Perhaps he was never a good man. But had he not meddled in such evil he would not have become the monster he is now. I am not saying you must join him, as, certainly, I would not. I am saying only that you must question the things you believe, and learn the truth. Not joining Voldemort does not mean that fighting for your Dumbledore is your only, or, indeed, your best, course of action. I wish only for you to take your own path, based upon your own beliefs and desires. I wish for you to fight for yourself, or not at all, if that were your desire." Harry stared at the centaur, his mind taking in his words as tension filled his body. The things the being spoke of made more sense in his mind than he wanted them to. Already his brain whirled with questions; some of the possible answers making his stomach churn. For the first time, Harry became violently aware of how very little he knew.

They didn't speak again after that, merely sat and watched the stars for hours, while Harry's mind whirled with questions. Eventually, the centaur left, a promise in his eyes to speak again, and Harry returned to the castle as the sun made its' way over the horizon. He went straight to the kitchens, knowing he would need some coffee if he was going to make it through the day.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry's head pounded all through potions class, and he spent most of his time glaring venomously at anyone who dared look in his direction. Severus had, apparently realizing his bad mood, chosen to ignore him for the day. He was thankful for this, since, regardless of their newfound sort-of-friendship, the man treated him just as he always had when they interacted in public. It was the reason they tended to avoid each other publicly, when they could, and Harry was certain the only ones who even suspected anything were the Slytherins.

Every beat of his heart had a thump-thump-thump bashing against his temples. The banging was terrible, and he growled loudly enough for Neville to hear him, as the other boy looked at him oddly. He waved off his concern and bore through the lesson, staying afterwards. He approached Severus' desk, and while the other afforded him a dark look of sorts, his face was pleasantly sans glare.

"Can I help you, Mr. Potter?"

"Do you have anything for headaches? And perhaps a pepper up potion? I... I didn't really get any sleep, and I don't think I'll make it through defense later without killing someone." His voice was unusually serious and cold for him, and he saw and heard both the concerned look the man's eyes as well as the equally concerned noise his inner animal produced. The dour professor stood without a word and moved to look through a cabinet at the side of the room. He handed Harry two potions, one of which was a dull red and had steamed up the vial it was held in, the other of which was an aquamarine color and thick like syrup. He drank them both without hesitation, pondering for a moment on how much he had come to trust the older male, and gave a sigh of relief as his headache fell away like water off the back of a duck. He felt refreshed, and shivered at the odd feeling that the steam spurting out of his ears gave him. He shook his head once it had passed, and turned grateful, and decidedly less temperamental, eyes upon his professor. "Thank you."

"Was it a vision?" Harry blinked when he realized the cause of the man's concern.

"Ah... No. I... I just have a lot on my mind is all." He couldn't quite decipher the potion master's expression.

"I see. You may go to your next class. Will you need a note?" He shook his head, and gathered his things in preparation for charms. He was nearly at the door when the man spoke again. "Harry!" He turned, startled, as he was still unused to the man using his first name. "I understand that we have never gotten along in the past, but if you should need someone to listen, I would like to be that person." He looked distinctly uncomfortable, the atmosphere a bit awkward. "My office is open on the weekends, from breakfast until an hour after dinner, and I am not above entering into a privacy agreement, if you deem it necessary." He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, and the teen smiled.

"Thank you Severus." He slipped out the door without another word, though the grin remained all the way to his next class.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry lay that night in the twins' otherwise empty bed in Gryffindor tower, and something inside him ached. The twins had, just around dinnertime, finally implemented their plan for escaping Hogwarts. They had left in a spectacular manner involving fireworks, brooms, peeves, and a very irate Umbridge. At the time, Harry had laughed joyously alongside everyone else, but now, he only felt cold and sad and very very lonely. He was happy for them, going out with a bang as they had; off to open their shops and live proper lives where no one was likely to discover their secret.

Lee shifted in his bed, rolling over with a grunt and a snore. Harry glanced towards him and looked away. He imagined that he and Lee were likely the only ones who knew about the twins. There had been too many boys in the twins' year, and so they had been split into two dorms; their own containing only themselves and Lee. He curled into a ball, drawing the covers tighter around himself. It felt like everything was slowly falling apart. The whole world had changed. He had classes, and study, secrets, and new places to explore. There was the merpeople and their lake, the secret library and the tunnels and whatnot that led to them, and now the forest with its' meddling centaurs who just couldn't leave well enough alone. His head swirled with all the changes and new stimuli he had been left to process, and now...

Now he didn't even have the twins to lean on. His best friends had left, and he felt he had no one to turn to. Except, perhaps, Severus. Yet the man was so strange, his emotions and actions so volatile, that Harry was left uncertain as to whether or not he could truly trust the man. The twins had been there since the beginning; perhaps not that close to the friend of their younger brother, and perhaps not so trusted due to their mischievous nature, but there nonetheless. Yet with Severus, there was so much past animosity between the two of them, that Harry was left uncertain in the wake of their new relationship. He kept expecting to wake up and have the man hating him again, as though all the progress they had made had only been a dream. He walked on eggshells, terrified that his trust might possibly be misplaced.

And yet... The man had been as close to kind to him as he seemed able, recently. He had agreed to honor his privacy with magic, he had aided him in the protection of the D.A., and he had offered his confidence. The question now, was whether or not to take it. He needed to talk to someone. He knew that. He needed someone to confide in, someone he could speak to in person whenever he needed rather than by letter, or he would lose his mind. He needed someone to lean on; someone to prop him up and keep him from falling. There was no one else but Severus left, with the twins now gone, his friendship with Ron broken and his friendship with Hermione well on the way, and Sirius stuck at Grimmauld with all the new uncertainties about their relationship plaguing him.

But could he trust Severus? Not just to keep his confidence, but to not turn his back on him and go back to his previous ways at the first bump in the road?

…He didn't know.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry stood nervously outside Severus' office just after Sunday breakfast. He stared at the dark wooden door uncertainty, not knowing if he should knock or walk away, and still wondering how he had let his feet talk him into coming here. Thus far, the man had proven himself to be perfectly deserving of his trust, yet he couldn't keep his mind from returning to the years previous. Then he paused. For all the horrible ways in which Severus had treated him, he had still looked out for him. He had been, perhaps not a knight in shining armor, but an irritable dragon ready to snatch him away from harm's grasp. Even when he had despised Harry, he had still protected him.

His mind whirled with this new realization, and the possible implications, and, in the end, he raised his fist to tap confidently upon the wood. The sound echoed through the silent dungeon halls, and he waited patiently for an answer. A muffled demand to enter sounded from beyond the door, and he carefully opened it to peek inside. Severus sat at his desk, apparently grading papers as he bit his red quill irritably into some poor sod's essay. He glanced upwards when Harry did not immediately come in, and Harry did not miss the slightly startled look. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought that, regardless of his invitation, Severus had never actually expected that he might come to confide in him. Still, the man wiped his face clean of expression and motioned him in. He closed the door carefully behind him, so that it didn't make too much noise, and came to sit in one of the rather comfortable armchairs before his desk. The man watched him, and set down his quill, seeming perfectly ready to listen to whatever it was Harry had to say. His eyes were kinder than usual, his face softer, and Harry wondered if this was how the man looked at the Slytherins in private.

"H- how are you today sir?" Severus raised an eyebrow, recognizing a stall-tactic when he saw one, but allowing it.

"Well enough. Though I find this year's newest students are even more abysmal in my class than your generation." He sent a scathing glare down upon the papers on his desk, and Harry couldn't hold back a chuckle. He wasn't sure why it was funny, but the man sent a sort of half-smile his way in response, just shy of a smirk, so he supposed that it had been meant that way. "Even my snakes this year are dreadful. They appear to have heads, but I fear they're more empty within than a living man's coffin." He had never heard the man make anything close to a joke before, and his morbid sense of humor startled a laugh out of Harry. Severus' smile was more relaxed then, closer to a real one than a smirk, and Harry found himself grinning back. His nervousness, while still very much present, was not nearly so bad as it had been.

"I don't think anyone in Gryffindor would ever believe me if I told them you had a sense of humor. They'd probably have heart-attacks if they ever saw it themselves." Severus snorted.

"Indeed." They drifted into silence for a moment, and then the potion master eyed him carefully. "I imagine, as you are here, that there was something you wished to speak with me about." Harry bit his lip; a habit he had thought crushed some time ago that still occasionally popped up. "Would you like me to perform a privacy agreement?" Harry found himself shaking his head.

"I trust you..."

"Then what's troubling you?" Harry sighed, and worked up his courage. Was he a Gryffindor or wasn't he?

"I... I used that potion. The family one we made in class." The professor's expression clearly told Harry that was the last subject he had expected. "I... it's..." his breaths came quicker and he was shaking without having realized it. Severus stood, worry in his eyes, and came to kneel before his seat, placing a calming hand on his arm. He was struck by how very tall the man was, and just how small, how childlike, he was by comparison.

"What is it child?" Severus apparently saw his small form in the same manner, and the strange, for him, kindness and address coming from a man who had once hated him had the words spill from his mouth, even though they had seemed so impossible to say aloud only a moment ago.

"James wasn't my real father. I... I'm not even Harry Potter. It... it's all _lies_." He choked, only now realizing he was crying. Severus face and eyes flashed through a range of emotions, the first being shock, though most were entirely unreadable to Harry. It took the man a moment to come to his senses and then he was pulling a handkerchief from somewhere in his robes and wiping gently at Harry's face, which only seemed to make him cry harder. Without meaning to he was suddenly sobbing. He didn't know when he ended up out of his chair and in his professor's arms, but the man's soothing and indecipherable words in his ears and calming arms around him were all he could feel.

Somehow, saying it aloud had only made it all the more real, and all the more painful, and Harry felt his grip on the world slipping away.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry sniffed, staring at the fire. They weren't in the office anymore, though he was still in the potion master's arms. He didn't know where they were exactly, but the fire in the fireplace was warm and comforting and they were set upon what he thought was probably a couch. Or rather, Severus was on the couch and he was in the man's lap. He took in slow, shaky breaths. He felt so empty. He hadn't realized just how bothered by it all he has been until he was sobbing uncontrollably into the professor's robes. A hand was carding gently through his hair. He had never had anyone do that before. It felt nice, even as a touch of shame curled in his belly at his having reacted the way he had. Boys weren't supposed to cry, right? It was only okay for girls to do, or maybe if someone died or something… Boys were supposed to be strong, they were supposed to man up, not sob like children.

"Are you feeling better?" He nodded. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please." His voice sounded strange. It was hoarse and cracking. He wondered if that was from the crying, or his current shame. The man pulled him carefully from his lap to set him on the couch. He sunk into the soft cushions a bit, and then the man wrapped a blue blanket about him. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but it was soft and warm, and he pulled it tighter about himself, feeling safer. When had the world changed so much? Severus walked away, and soon Harry heard the faint sounds of clinking metal and glass, and the sound of the opening and closing of a cupboard or cabinet. He sighed, and curled up beneath the blanket, only now looking up, and about himself.

It looked like a living room of sorts, decorated in shades of brown, blue, and green. It was homey, and nice, and he could see a bedroom with a large poster bed through a doorway to his left. There was another, doorless opening next to it, from wherein he could hear Severus moving about as he prepared the tea, and he could see just the edge of a table, with a chair at it from beyond the entryway. He imagined it was a kitchen and dining room within, and looked away, his eyes drawn back to the fire. This place was nice, and warm, and comforting. Was this where Severus lived? How had they gotten here? He could hardly remember moving. Was is connected to the man's office? They couldn't possibly have gone far.

"Here." He took the tea gently. It was in a mug rather than a teacup. The color was different than what he was used to, it looked almost purple, but when he tasted it, it was sweet, with a undertone of honey. He sipped it with a hum, as the temperature was perfect. He felt calm as he did so, and wondered if the odd coloring came from the addition of a calming potion. He found he wasn't much bothered by the thought. "How are you feeling?" He questioned, settling himself into an armchair across from Harry with his own mug in hand.

"Better. I guess I hadn't realized how upset I was. It felt different to admit it out loud than it had in my head." Severus nodded, seeming to understand perfectly.

"Did you want to talk about it more? We can leave the subject be, if you would be more comfortable." He eyed his professor. He could see the burning curiosity in those eyes, mixed as it was with so many other emotions he couldn't identify, but he knew If he wanted it, that Severus would leave it be.

"I think I can talk about it. I don't believe I'll get so upset now." The man nodded, and was silent. He seemed to be waiting for Harry to speak now, and, after a few minutes of quietly drinking his tea, he did. "Sirius is my father." The man blanched and he watched him carefully. His face played through a range of expressions, and Harry wondered how he could have ever thought the man was emotionless. Soon his expression began to sour, and Harry tensed. Yet the man paused, closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He continued breathing deeply for a few moments, his face softening all the while, until the anger had been washed away. There was no hate in his eyes when he opened them and looked at Harry, and he found himself very much relieved.

"I suppose this would explain why he keeps pestering me at meetings, saying that you're no longer returning his letters." His voice was measured, perhaps irritated, but not angry, and Harry relaxed into the cushions.

"I didn't mean to. I'm not upset with him. Not really. I just... I don't know what to say." Severus nodded.

"I would imagine that it's not a subject for letters." Harry hummed.

"It's more than that though... It's not just about Sirius. It's about my mother too. Her name..." He looked down in thought, oblivious to the emotions playing violently across his professor's face.

"Her name?" He nodded, not looking up.

"My mother's maiden name was supposed to be Evans, but on the paper it was Malfoy. I... I don't really understand how that can be, because she's supposed to be a muggleborn, and... Well, Malfoy isn't exactly a common name, is it?" He was still looking down, and so was left entirely unaware of the struggle Severus seemed to be going through as his emotions warred with each other. There was silence for a time, and Harry's eyes eventually moved back to the fire. He didn't realize it, but it was nearly half an hour before the silence was broken again.

"Have you told anyone of this?" He looked back to Severus and shook his head.

"The only ones I might have told would have been the twins, but by the time I worked up the nerve they had pulled their stunt and left. I've been trying to think of a way to tell Sirius, at least about the father part, but I don't think I want to tell him about my mom." Severus frowned.

"Why not?" He shrugged.

"I just... I don't think he really needs to know, is all." He nodded, accepting Harry's response.

"I suppose... I could speak with Albus, and see if we can't set up a visit to Grimmauld place next weekend. That woman is unable to monitor my private floo, so if you wished to speak with... your… _father_... in person, it might be possible." Harry blinked in surprise, mouth falling open a moment before he smiled.

"I... would appreciate that, Severus." The man nodded.

"Very well then, I'll set up your meeting with the mutt." His face looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, and Harry couldn't help but to laugh.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Life, for Harry, seemed to calm considerably during the week after their talk. Severus had promised him he would tell no one, not even Dumbledore, of the things Harry had learned in regards to his parentage, and Harry believed wholeheartedly that it was a promise he would keep. He was nervous about the coming weekend, but, for the most part, his stress had gone down quite a bit. He didn't feel as though the world was caving in around him anymore, at any rate. He had decided that no one else needed to know about his mother's true heritage unless it was absolutely necessary, and Severus had seemed rather pleased with him when he had told him so. He imagined that, sooner or later, most of the people he was connected to would learn of his relation to Sirius, but for now, he wanted to try and keep it on a need-to-know basis.

He was less nervous than he had thought he would be when thinking of the quickly approaching meeting with his father. He figured that might have something to do with Severus' promise to come with him, and be there all the while in case he was needed. He had welcomed the thought of _having someone in his corner_, so to speak, as it seemed like a rare occurrence these days that he did.

Severus informed him during their usual Thursday-night occlumency lesson that he would be expecting Harry at his office after breakfast on Saturday. Now, it was Friday night, and, though he really shouldn't be, Harry found himself walking through the forest sans-glamour. He didn't even turn to look when he heard the clopping sound of hooves coming near him, and soon the light of the waning moon above him was hindered slightly by the form of the centaur walking beside him.

They traveled in silence for a bit, until the trees broke and Harry found himself entering into a small glade with a little pond. He wandered over to it, and looked in. The water rippled slightly in places, so there were fish, but it wasn't much wider than he was long when in animagus form, and there was no explanation for where the water had come from. If he was a muggle, he might suspect the odd little pond was man-made; as it was, he imagined that wild magic likely had something to do with its' creation. He sat by it, calmly looking at the beautiful reflection of the moon upon its' surface, and only looked upon his companion when the other had rested himself beside him; horse-body in a laying position just as before. He smiled warily at him then. He liked Firenze well enough, though he didn't much like the things the centaur seemed to want him to think about.

The other said nothing at first though, merely smiled gently and looked at him with those wise eyes before turning them to the sky. Harry joined him in his star-gazing for a time, and all was quiet and peaceful. He wasn't sure how long had passed before the centaur chose to speak, but he found he had grown incredibly relaxed, and had long since chosen to lay on his back while he stared at the stars; his tail twitching lazily against his leg.

"You go to meet with your sire tomorrow." Harry hummed a noncommittal sound, not much surprised by the centaur's knowledge. "Do not be surprised if the meeting seems unfavorable. I imagine you and your family will be happy in time, however." A spike of nerves churned in his stomach, but he nodded and forced himself to relax. Firenze turned his blue eyes upon the teen. "I would like to apologize." Harry looked up at him, startled.

"For what?"

"I did not mean to trouble you when last we met. I wish only for you to make your own decisions, based upon truth, rather than you be forced down one path through what others tell you. Humans are naturally biased. They make their own opinions, not always based upon fact, and then seek to impose that opinion, that belief onto those around. Those around them accept their thoughts and beliefs as though they were facts, and it spreads further, like a sickness. One such as you, who faces so much, should not be infected by such sickness." Harry listened carefully, and nodded.

"I understand. You were right too, about how little I knew; how little I _know_. I won't say I fully understand what you expect me to do just yet, or what _path_ I'm supposed to take, but I've been thinking a lot. There's a lot I've been questioning lately. It's not in my power to find all the answers just yet, but I'm starting to notice a few things that don't add up."

"Would you like to share your thoughts?" He shook his head.

"I think I'd rather wait until I'm more certain about some things." Firenze nodded, but something in his eyes told Harry he knew more than Harry did about it all. Like before, they were silent for a time, and eventually the centaur left. This time though, Harry would have a few hours to sleep before he needed to be up.

The next morning, Harry quickly ate his breakfast and met with Severus. The man nodded at him and led him to his office fireplace. With a call of the address, he through the powder into the fire. Harry stepped into the green flames and disappeared.

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I remember this time just a few years back. I was probably fourteen or fifteen, and I was really stressed out. School was wearing on me, my mom was sick with cancer, and after just having lost my grandma to the same disease a couple years previous I was terrified of losing her. I was dating someone then. Some girl I don't even remember the name of now, and she had sort of become my rock without me realizing it. I depended on her to keep me going with everything else looking like it was falling apart, and then one day she dumped me. I wasn't in love or anything, and honestly our relationship had been better when we were just friends, so I wasn't really that upset about the breakup itself. It was more that it looked like the world was crumbling around me and I couldn't do anything. It was the loss of control that upset me.

All day I just sort of felt numb, and then I came home. My dad was there. He and my mom worked a lot back then and the house was almost always empty when I got home, but for some reason he was home that day. I think he had a short day, or was off or something. Anyways, I remember walking through the door and seeing him, and he smiled at me and said 'welcome home' and smiled at me. That was all he did, but it was like he shot the numbness away and I started bawling like a baby. I couldn't stop.

I'm tall. Taller than my dad. I was taller than him then. And he still picked me up and put me in his lap and held me till I was done crying like a was five years old. Then he made me pizza and gave me my first beer. We sat there for three hours watching stargate sg1, eating pizza, and getting drunk, and my mom came home that day to the two of us laughing our asses off about something that wasn't even that funny. By the next day, I had a headache, but I could barely remember what had made me sad in the first place.

I hadn't cried that hard since I was ten, and I haven't done so since then (I'm almost twenty now). But that day, despite everything else that happened, and despite feeling like a crybaby later on, is one of the best memories I have about hanging out with my dad. That's what the Severus-comforting-Harry scene felt like to me. The whole time I was writing it, I thought of that.

The only other thing I feel the need to make a note on, is Firenze. In case it wasn't clear enough, he wasn't trying to make Harry see Voldemort as a good person, or even a potential ally, he was simply trying to get our little animagus to question things and think for himself. Voldemort is evil in this fic, plain and simple, and he will remain that way. The centaur wasn't attempting to make Harry see any redeemable qualities in him, but rather in others. The more Harry begins to question the things around him, the more he begins to look closely at the more difficult things; the more he will learn and grow, and the more he will discover about people.

I hope you all liked this chapter. I know nothing has really been explained about Harry's, and we haven't had our confrontation with Sirius yet, but I still hope you liked it. I promise those things will come with time though, so just be patient.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	8. Part One, Chapter Seven

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

Okay, so we get our confrontation this chapter. Aside from that, a lot happens here, but it's kind of a short chapter also. I had thought of just continuing on through the rest of the events, but I decided to cut in two and split it instead. I'll be posting the next chapter a little early because of that, so you won't have to wait very long for it. The next chapter will mark the end of Part One, and then after that you lot will find yourself finally introduced into Part Two.

Part Two is a little longer, and we see some ally-making and character development in it, if not a ton of action, so hopefully you all will enjoy it as much as you have, thus far, enjoyed Part One. Since this is a little shorter than usual, you can expect the next chapter to be up a little earlier than usual as well.

Thank you all, and enjoy.

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Harry found himself on Snape's couch again, curled into a small ball. He had not cried, and Severus had understood without a single word to not speak to him or try to comfort him. Right now, he only needed to be left alone to think. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, thinking back to Firenze's words. Everything would be alright. He just needed to hold on. He pulled the blue blanket tighter around himself, and brought his knees up to hide his face in. His tail curled tightly around his knees, and he made himself as small as possible. He was not crying, he told himself stubbornly; refusing to acknowledge the burning in his eyes. He was _not._

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Sirius had been overjoyed when they had first gotten there. He had grinned widely when he saw Harry, and there had been true relief in his face and posture when Harry had hugged him. He'd held the teen tightly, as though he were terrified he would disappear, and Professor Lupin, who still tried to get him to call him Remus, had smiled gently at the sight. Severus had, surprisingly, refrained from sneering; keeping his expression carefully blank and neutral. That alone seemed to have tipped the two marauders off that something was wrong.

They had gone to the kitchen then, to drink tea and exchange pleasantries, and try very hard to ignore the reason Harry was there; a reason which only two of the four actually knew at that time. Severus had occasionally joined in on the conversation, remaining carefully civil and politely detached. His behavior, recognizable to Harry as a sign of the man making a true effort to put the past behind him, seemed to steadily freak the other two out more and more; though they appeared determined not to acknowledge that the behavior was odd.

They talked about how Harry was doing in school, how Sirius had been while cooped up here, Remus' work with a couple of werewolf packs, and even a new potion Severus was working on. Sirius grit his teeth whenever the potion master spoke, and was careful to be civil in Harry's presence. Harry realized that he actually believed it was his words about the man that had prompted the teen to cease their weekly communication. Eventually the chat devolved more and more until it hit the pleasant weather and tapered off into a very awkward silence.

They had sat there for several minutes, Severus quietly drinking his tea, while Remus seemed to fiddle with his hands and Sirius' gaze snapped rapidly between Severus and Harry; who was staring at his teacup as though it held all the answers of the universe. Harry found that he wasn't all that surprised when it became Sirius who proved unable to stand the tense silence any longer and thus chose to break it. He had cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the others in the room, and opened his mouth.

"So, Prongslet..." The nickname had made Harry flinch, knowing as he did that the name did not apply to him, and Sirius had stopped. Lately the man had taken to calling him Kitten because of his animagus form, and this was the first time during the morning he had reverted to the previous _Prongslet_.

"Perhaps, Lupin, you could locate yourself elsewhere for the time being." Severus' voice had still been civil, though his eyes had been dark as they rested on the werewolf. Remus had looked ready to protest, before apparently thinking better of it, nodding, and leaving the room obediently with only a single backwards glance towards Harry and Sirius. Severus then took the time to cast a few privacy and silencing charms about the three of them, and Sirius began to grow tense.

They were left in silence again for several moments, wherein the potion master focused solely on his tea; thus making it rather clear to Harry that the man intended for him to do this alone, and would intervene only if it was absolutely necessary for him to do so. He swallowed and fidgeted.

"Harry?" He looked up at Sirius, who was eyeing him carefully. "What's this about, kitten?" The nickname made him relax a bit, something both adults took note of, and Harry sighed, rubbing an arm and trying to think of where to begin.

"Um... You... Have you ever heard of the Sanguinem Patris potion?" Sirius nodded.

"Yes..." He spoke carefully, his confusion fully evident in the tone of his voice. "We did that one in school. It gives you a paternal family tree. I could only make mine go back four or five generations, I think." He smiled, though the expression dropped when Harry didn't return it. The teen swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"I... We made it. In potions. Recently." He paused, and Sirius still looked confused. "I..." His lip trembled and he fisted his hands in his lap, angry with himself and his own cowardice. "James wasn't my father." Sirius' expression was one of absolute shock. His eyes were almost comically wide, his mouth slightly open. He closed it with a snap after a moment, and then his expression turned first considering, and then, to Harry's surprise, angry. He turned enraged eyes on Severus.

"You." The word was filled with more venom than one of Voldemort's crucios. "How dare you?! Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?! I KNEW YOU FANCIED HER BUT HOW DARE YOU-" Severus leapt to his feet in a rage, while Harry looked on with confusion.

"I NEVER LAID A HAND ON HER! I WOULD NEVER-"

"LIAR! HOW DARE YOU PURSUE HER! SHE WAS MARRIED-"

"I WOULD NEVER DEFILE LILY YOU MUTT-"

"YOU BASTARD! WHAT DID YOU DO?! DID YOU GET HER DRUNK JUST SO SHE'D EVEN CONSIDER-"

"I'M NOT THE ONE WHO TOUCHED HER!"

"I KNEW YOU COULDN'T BE TRUSTED! I TOLD THEM AND THEY-"

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO'S NAME'S ON THE PAPER, BLACK!" Sirius froze.

"I- What?" He looked absolutely flabbergasted and disbelieving. His eyes fell on Harry, who nodded. The teen was still confused, not fully understanding what was going on. Sirius paled, and fell into his chair as though the power of his legs had left him. "I... There must be some mistake..." Harry shook his head.

"There wasn't. I brewed the potion right. I even-" Sirius' eyes snapped back to Severus again, and his voice, while quiet this time, was no less angry.

"What did you do, Snivellus? Switch the potion with some rigged brew?"

"Padfoot-" Harry tried to interrupt but Sirius ignored him entirely.

"What kind of lies are you filling his head with, you snake?" The glare Severus bestowed upon him, the glare he had held since the man began his first accusation, was dark enough to burn something alive.

"I did nothing. He brewed it himself, bottled it himself, and added the blood himself. I never even touched it."

"Is that true?" He turned his gaze back to Harry, still unbelieving.

"Yes." Harry's voice was quiet, subdued. "Severus didn't do anything but give me the paper-"

"I knew it! You did rig it somehow, didn't you! Going around spreading lies, you filthy, slimy-" THUNK. Sirius' eyes went wide, as he was flung backwards, landing sprawled on the floor half on his chair that hit the tile with a grand clatter; his face just as shocked as before. His grey eyes fell on Harry, whose hand was still in a fist; his arm in the post-punch position. The green-eyed teen glared daggers at the man. He had had quite enough. He shook with anger and grief, and he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it with a snap. He let his hand fall back to his side. Sirius began to look regretful as blood dribbled from his nose and Harry's eyes began to water and then harden, and the teen turned around without a word.

He went back to the living room, finding Remus sitting on an armchair reading. The werewolf looked up as he entered, and upon seeing Harry's face, looked concerned. Harry ignored him entirely as he grabbed a handful of the floo powder from the mantle and threw it in the flames, stopping only when he realized he didn't know the address. Severus spoke it from behind him, his voice still tinged with his own anger, and they stepped into the flames side by side.

Sirius didn't even come out of the kitchen.

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And now, here he was. A tap on his knee had him looking up, and he met Severus' dark eyes. If the man noticed the wetness of his cheeks, he said nothing about it, and rather simply held out a mug to Harry. It was the same tea as before, likely laced with a calming potion, and Harry accepted it gratefully, lowering his knees to sit Indian-style. He sipped at it carefully, and the man once again settled into the armchair across from him. Harry wondered if this would become a weekly occurrence with the two of them; him feeling like crap while they drank tea together. While weekly visits would be nice, he would rather the state of them be more pleasant. They drank in silence for a bit, before Harry chose to break it.

"Why did he think you might be..."

"Your father?" He nodded, and the man held his mug on his lap with a sigh. "Because, before she began dating Potter, Lily and I were rather close." Harry perked up a bit, looking at him curiously, and Severus seemed to decide to humor him. "We met before Hogwarts. We lived near each other, and being that my mother was a witch, and I was thus knowledgeable about the wizarding world, and so I recognized her bouts of accidental magic for what they were. I told her about it, and we became friends." Harry's eyes widened.

"What was she like? Everyone always talks about James, but..." Severus smiled sadly.

"She was brilliant. She always thought outside the box, and she was very kind. She had a very innate sense of justice, and abhorred bullies of all forms. That's the reason she always turned Potter down at first, whenever he attempted to ask her on a date. He and his lot never liked me, and she didn't like the way they treated me." Harry was puzzled.

"Then how did they end up married?" Snape tensed, but continued.

"She and I had a fight. It was just after I joined the dark lord, and I showed her my mark. I had thought I could make her understand, but I was young then, and so foolish, and my loyalties were not the same as they are now. She got angry with me and we yelled at each other. Near the end, I called her something terrible, and she stormed off. We didn't speak much after that. Around this same time, I suppose you could say that Potter... Matured. Black was still a bully then, but Potter seemed willing to put it behind him. I imagine, that it was a bit of both these things that made her say yes the next time he tried courting her, and things progressed from there." Harry nodded, and bit his lip.

"Did you... Did you really fancy her?" He berated himself for asking, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know. Severus seemed to deflate a bit.

"I loved your mother very much… I had hoped, that one day we might be together, and I suppose that was part of the reason why I hated Potter so much."

"Is that why you hated me too?" He looked pained.

"I... I did not mean it, but... You..." He sighed. "You were like a reminder to me, of all that I could never have. If Lily had been with me... You might have been..." Harry appreciated his honesty, knowing by his pained expression that this was not easy for him.

"I could have been your son." The professor nodded in a defeated sort of way, and for the first time Harry began to understand the man before him a little. They said nothing for several minutes, and Harry was once again the one to break the silence. "I think I would have liked having you as a father." The words were just above a whisper, and the man looked surprised at first, and then the two of them shared sad, bitter smiles.

Harry decided he very much hated his life.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

There were no classes on Monday; there would in fact be no more classes for the rest of the year. There were only two weeks left, and Harry found himself wondering where in the world all the time had gone. He hadn't even realized the end of the year was so close. All the same, he was happy for the break. Their O.W.L. tests would begin on Tuesday, and he would have only one or two to focus on each day, leaving him with plenty of free time. As a result, he found himself in the secret library on Monday, at the desk of Chronus Black, the little paper that seemed intent on ruining his life set before him.

He had looked at the other names; the paternal side of the Black family, and had been surprised to realize the names at the very top, the farthest back his potion had been able to go, were Chronus Black and Perdita Slytherin. Even with all the upset he felt over Sirius' reaction, seeing those two names in his direct ancestry made him smile. He had found himself drawn to the keeper of Hogwarts over the course of reading his journal/instruction manual, and he felt comforted somehow in knowing he was related to the other. He had wondered what had become of Chronus, and whether or not he had lived long enough to have a child, though he really should have known that already, considering the young man's words about being the only Black heir. Still, the words on this little paper were proof that he had had a son, at least, who he had named Zeus. His lip twitched. Zeus' son had been Apollo, and he knew from a brief interest in Greek mythology that they were all gods, each the child of the other. Before they had begun naming their children after stars, it had apparently been tradition to name their children after a Greek god or goddess who was the child of whatever Greek god or goddess they themselves were named after.

Eventually Licorus had broken the cycle by naming his children after stars instead, and Harry wondered if he had possessed an interest in astrology. The cycle wasn't broken again until himself, as he was named Harry, and not after a star of any sort. He eyed his name where it was at the bottom of the page, as, on here, it said Harry Black, rather than Harry Potter. He found he liked the look of his real name, regardless of all the problems he was stuck facing because of it. He sighed.

"You look even more down than usual." He jumped, nearly falling out of his seat, and looked around wildly until his eyes suddenly fell upon the source. His mouth dropped open a bit, and he stared. There was suddenly a small break of bare wall in between two of the bookshelves that had definitely not been there before, and on it was the portrait of Frode, looking down at him with a strange combination of amusement and concern.

"I- wha? How did you-?" The man smiled, flashing a set of yellowing teeth.

"We all have our secrets, child, and I'm afraid I guard mine a bit more closely than most." Harry scowled, knowing very well that the painting was unlikely to tell him anything more about the matter. "I see you have not inducted yourself as keeper. A wise choice, my child." He blinked.

"Why? What's wrong with becoming keeper?" The portrait smiled sadly.

"To become keeper is to bind yourself to this place, and to Hogwarts, for the rest of your natural life. Call me foolish, but I've a feeling there may well come a day when you decide not to call this castle home any longer, and it would do you well not to be bound here, under such a circumstance." Harry frowned.

"But... Hogwarts has always been my home."

"But it was not _meant_ to be such. It was meant only to be a place of learning, and the day may well come when you need to go elsewhere, and find your own home." Harry debated his words within his mind, not really liking the implications, but it seemed people were always telling him things he didn't want to hear these days.

"I, alright." Frode smiled.

"If I might be so bold, young one?" Harry hummed. "I have been watching you for quite some time, more so than when we have spoken, and I believe you are the best one to give this task unto, if you would accept the burden."

"What is it?" His voice was wary.

"Should the day truly arrive upon which you no longer call this castle home, I would like you to relocate these books elsewhere. This library is old, and is fast becoming an unsuitable place to store such tomes. Would you make a new resting place for these books, and the knowledge they hold, one day?" Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

"Are you... Are you asking me to take possession of them?" Frode nodded.

"I can think of no other who would make a more suitable caretaker. You are an excellent keeper, even without the vows and the magic. I dare say the books have taken a liking to you, and I doubt they would protest were you the one to remove them. You would need a safe place for their keeping, however." Harry found himself nodding.

"Alright. I don't know if I'll be able to, but I promise to try and find a new place for the books."

"That's all I ask."

"Would I be right in assuming I'll be making a place for you as well as the books." Harry asked wryly, and Frode chuckled.

"If you didn't mind my presence overly much, though you'd need to remove me from the wall yourself and place me wherever your chosen space is. I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to move about much anymore once outside these walls."

"So your portrait will stop popping up in random places?" The painting grinned and said nothing. Harry snorted. "Of course." They were quiet a moment, and then Frode apparently decided it was time for a change in topic.

"Now that we have settled such business, I would like to know what has you so troubled, if you were willing to share." Harry sent him a weak glare and then his eyes fell sadly back onto the paper on the desk.

"My parents weren't who I thought they were, and when I tried to tell my real father the truth, he wouldn't listen to me."

"Ah, family. I find that a real family, is rarely one brought together by blood. Is this man someone who know and care for? If he is not, I would not bother trying to make him such. I believe it is always best to choose your family yourself, after all." Harry smiled sadly.

"I thought he was just my godfather, before. I guess that up until now I've always seen him as a fun sort of Uncle. So, yes, I do care for him. I understand what you mean though, about having a family that's not connected by blood." He thought fondly of the Weasleys with a small smile and Frode nodded in approval.

"I understand. Still, why cannot this man remain as your 'fun uncle'? Just because he is your father by blood does not mean you must view him that way. Were you unhappy with your previous relationship with him?" Harry turned thoughtful a moment.

"No. Not really. I mean, I wish I'd been able to see him a bit more, but I don't mind the way things have been otherwise." Frode nodded sharply.

"Then perhaps you are trying too hard. I would suggest carrying on as you always have, and see where life takes you. If he forever remains as an Uncle of sorts, you would still be close, so there is no reason to fret. Besides, it may well come to pass with time that this man fully takes on his role as father in your mind." Harry smiled.

"I think, you're right. You know," He offered the portrait a shrewd look. "you always seem to know just what to say to ease my mind." Frode grinned, and Harry watched as suddenly, his portrait disappeared. There was no movement or light or sign of visible magic. One moment he was there, and the next he wasn't and then the bookcases began shuffling themselves back together until the blank space of wall was gone entirely. Harry blinked at them, but they looked just the same as they always had.

"Huh."

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Tuesday night, just a few days from the end of school, had Harry collapsing into his bed in Gryffindor tower. He had considered sleeping in the secret tower, but had decided that he would begin doing such a thing only once the next school year began. There were a couple more exams that would be going on the next two days, but not for any of the classes that Harry was in, so he put it out of his mind.

He rolled over on his back and sighed, looking up at the canopy of his bed. He stared absently at the silky, dark red material that hung above him, not really focused on anything for a moment. He found himself relieved that the year was nearly over, and actually looking forwards to returning to the Dursley's. He imagined that was likely connected to their better treatment of him lately, and smiled. He would never really forget the treatment they'd given him for so many years before now, but he figured that if they were willing to try and put the past behind them, that he would make an effort as well.

He hadn't had time to really consider their behavior much the previous summer, because of all the hell he had been going through with his animagus-transformation-gone-wrong, but the bits in-between all that had been pleasant enough; if a tad awkward. He hoped to find a way to weed out the awkwardness as much as he could this summer, and perhaps eventually create a proper familial relationship with his Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin. He didn't think they'd ever be particularly close, like he was with the Weasleys, but he could imagine a future with cards sent on holidays, visits and gifts for Christmas, and maybe the occasional tea-time. It was an acceptable prospect, at any rate.

He closed his eyes and hummed to himself. He was exhausted. His exams had been tiring. HIs DADA, Charms, Ancient Runes, and, surprisingly, his Potions exams had been easy enough. Taking them had not occurred without effort, but he was confident on the grades he believed he would receive. Transfiguration and Herbology had been more difficult for him, but he believed he had passed, at least. He wasn't confident in the possible result of his Astronomy exam, but by far the most difficult had been his Arithmancy exam. He hated the class, even if it helped him, and while he was sure he had at least gained an Acceptable, it was likely only barely so. Ancient Studies and Care of Magical Creatures had no O.W.L. exams, and so he barely gave them a passing thought at the moment.

He breathed in deeply, letting his breath go with ease, and closed his eyes. Thoughts of next year dancing behind his eyes, Harry fell asleep.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

_She was in the room again, moving across the stone on her belly and twisting between the shelves. Her tongue flicked out to taste the air and she was pleased. Her master was near. She flowed beneath one of the shelves and followed her senses. Suddenly she came from beneath one of the shelves of blue orbs and her eyes lit upon the image of her master._

_He was tall, taller than most humans, his pale features more comparable to her own appearance than that of the other two-legged beings. He looked down upon her with pleased eyes the shade of blood, and she felt cold. She loved her master, truly, but he was not what he once had been. He made a contented hiss._

_"__**Nagini...**__" He shifted, moving toward her, and his movement revealed another human at his feet. It was a scraggly thing, with dark, wild hair like the broken woman who adored her master frighteningly. He looked at her with dull grey eyes that were glazed in pain and his breath came in hesitant rasps. This was not altogether unlike what happened to many of those her master struck with the red light of pain._

_**No! Sirius!**__ Harry called out from within her mind, and she felt sad, ignoring her master as he rubbed at her head gently. _

_**I am so sorry brother-mine.**_

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry gasped as he awoke, body shaking with a cold sweat. His head ached terribly, every beat of his heart acting like the pound of a hammer behind his eyelids. He whimpered pitifully, and leapt to his feet. He needed to go. Sirius was in trouble. He tumbled from bed in his haste, the blanket tangling with his feet and sending him over the edge and onto the floor with a violent crash and a string of curses.

"Wha?!"

"The fu-"

"Hell was-"

"Harry?"

Harry winced. Only Ron's snores sounded through the room now; the redhead being a notoriously deep sleeper. Calloused hands grasped him and helped him up and he murmured a thanks before he had even looked up to see that it was Neville. The other boy was looking at him carefully, and with worry. Seamus was standing nearby and watching, his pajamas badly rumpled, while Dean peeked out from between his bed curtains. There was rather suspicious movement behind him, and Harry decided he didn't want to know who had apparently been smuggled into their dorm room for the night.

"Are you alright Harry?" Neville kept a hand on one of his shoulders and that, more than anything, helped him calm down a moment and ground himself. "Was it a vision?" He hadn't had one in a long while, but all of his roommates were well aware of them, therefore Harry didn't really understand why the other teen had lowered his voice to just above a whisper; as though they were talking of some great secret. He swallowed.

"Yes." His voice came out as a croak. "My- my godfather's in danger. I-" He looked up into Neville's eyes, willing him to understand as he spoke. "I need to go help him." Neville stared uncertainly at him a moment, and then nodded resolutely.

"Get dressed then, and give me a moment. I won't let you run off alone." His voice was stern and unyielding, and Harry knew there would be no point trying to convince him otherwise. He nodded, and headed immediately to his trunk, pulling his nightclothes from himself without a thought for modesty. It didn't matter anyways, with the armor on beneath it all, and if any of the others thought it strange that he wore such a thing he heard no comments from them. It took no time at all to tug on a shirt and trousers and when he looked he found that Neville, and, somewhat surprisingly, Seamus, were just finishing up the same. Dean hadn't moved from his bed, though he gazed out at the three of them worriedly.

Harry paid him little mind, and soon the three of them were rushing out the door and down the stairs. Harry, panicked as he was, only just barely had the frame of mind to slow himself so that they wouldn't notice his inhuman speed. His pace felt far too slow to him, and made him pained. The common room was empty save for one Parvati Patil, who jumped to her feet at the sight of the boys.

"What is happening?" Perhaps not as intelligent as her Ravenclaw sister, and focused a bit more on trivialities, Parvati was still intelligent, and knew trouble and determined faces when she saw them. A hasty reply from Harry about the nature of the situation, offering in turn more information to the two boys, had her nodding. "Let me get my sister and have her waken the other Ravens in D.A. You can get the others. I know the Hufflepuff dorms are on the third floor near the hospital wing, but I only know that the snakes are in the dungeons. Do you know a way out of the castle?" Harry looked at her blankly a moment, unused to the thought of having others to stand behind him, but then nodded. His mind focused on the fireplace in the secret tower, and the little jar on its' mantle. He had never tried it, and neither had the twins, but he was absolutely certain it had a working floo connection, and there was no way Umbridge could have known about it; and thus no way she could have monitored it.

"Neville, Seamus, you head to the badgers. I know where the snakes are. Don't press anyone. This will be dangerous. If someone wants to stay behind, you let them." They all nodded, long since willing to follow his orders as a result of their time doing so in the D.A. "Are you all certain you want to help?" They all nodded, no hesitation, and while thoughts of them getting hurt made his stomach churn he chose wisely not to argue. He would need all the hell he could get anyways. "Alright. We'll meet outside the meeting room." They made sounds of agreement, and soon they were all scurrying out of the portrait hole and in various directions. Harry let his true speed shine once he was far enough they wouldn't see him, and was soon pushing himself desperately towards the lower levels of the castle.

So used to dealing with dangerous matters on his own and with friends, he never even thought to seek Severus' help.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry passed the stretch of stone wall once before doubling back, stopping and returning to stand before it as he panted. He was struck, by the first time, with the thought that he didn't actually know how to get in, and stood there for a moment, filled with puzzlement and quickly mounting desperation. He stared at the little stone snake carving that was the only marker to distinguish the Slytherin common room entrance from the rest of the empty corridor, and his growing panic was interrupted by an idea. He prayed it work as he whispered hastily in parseltongue.

"_Open._"

A moment's relief filled him as the wall slid open with the sound of scraping stone, and he slipped silently inside. The room was much the same as it had been that time they snuck in during second year, with its' green and silver decor, and the windows from which could be seen various fish and water creatures dwelling within the lake. So many years ago, the sight had been creepy to him, but now it was comforting, and even the normally bothersome coloring was like a calm touch from a friend.

When attempting to head down one of the staircases made a wall appear before him, he rightly assumed it to be the girls' and moved to the other. The doors were, thankfully, labeled by year, and he eventually found his way to the fifth year door. He was careful when opening it, wary of traps, and just as wary as he entered. The sounds of various snores and sleepy shifting filled his ears, and he checked the first bed. A moment of calm joy filled him when it proved to be Blaise's bed, and he carefully shook the boy awake. Blaise's dark form blinked blearily up at him a moment, and then sprang into a sitting position as he realized just who it was.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" His voice was measured and careful, but low, and Harry could see his hands searching about for his wand.

"Voldemort took my... godfather. I... I need to help him. Parvati thought of getting help from the other D.A. members, and I-"

"Shhhh." He quieted, his voice having begun to rise in his panic. "Alright. I'll come with you. Leave Draco and the others be though. If you're telling the truth, that means facing the death eaters, and I won't let you pit them against their families." Harry cursed himself internally for not having thought of that, and the other teen silently slipped out of bed and began getting ready. Harry fidgeted, wanting to hurry, but soon enough they were slipping out of the dorm and then into the hallway. Harry was forced to slow his pace again, but he felt calmer with Blaise there, if only slightly.

"Thank you." He told him as they ran, trying to keep his voice low despite the pace.

"Of course. How do you know what's happening anyways?" He was too worried to consider any possible consequences of telling the other, and simply replied.

"We're connected. I see things sometimes."

"You and your godfather?"

"Me and Voldemort." They didn't speak again after that, just traveled up the many stairs until they reached the seventh floor. They paused a minute at the top, the Slytherin needing to catch his breath, and Harry's impatient twitching meant they were moving again soon enough. When they rounded the corner just before the room of requirement Harry was happy to see some of the D.A. gathered in the hall.

Neville, Seamus, and both Patil sisters were there. Aside them were Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, and Daniel. With him and Blaise, that meant eleven people, less than half of the D.A.'s twenty four members. Still, it was more than Harry could have hoped for. He kept moving past them, and they followed him. He could almost sense their confusion when he ran them through a few more hallways before stopping in front of the tapestry, which he had changed to picture a smiling red and gold snake. He froze a moment in hesitation and then turned to look at them.

"I need you all to give me your word you won't tell anyone about this place." They all nodded, each murmuring various forms of agreement, and their determined faces made him certain of their trustworthiness. He nodded sharply and turned back to the tapestry, speaking in parseltongue for the second time this night.

"_May I enter, pretty one_?" The woven serpent nodded in an exaggerated manner, and rolled up, the stone beneath moving up as well to reveal the stairwell. They climbed together, the others more cautious, and he went to the fireplace immediately. The others stopped to look around while he fiddled with the pot on the mantelpiece, gathering up a handful of floo powder. He paused before throwing it in, and turned back to look at them all.

They looked younger to him now, in the firelight, than they had before, and something in his chest ached painfully at the thought of anything bad happening to these people. They looked determined though, and he knew there would be no way he could stop them now. He warred with himself for several moments, but in the end, his concern for Sirius, for his father, won out over everything else.

"This is the last chance you have to turn back. If you decide to follow me, I can't promise you that you won't be hurt. You need to be sure of yourselves. This will be the only chance you have to walk away. I won't be angry. I promise." Some of their faces didn't change, others seemed to consider it a moment. He gave them a few minutes, agonizingly aware of every wasted second, but in the end, none of them chose to leave. "I need a wizard's oath, from each of you. That you won't tell anyone anything that happens tonight, or anything I say to you. This is important." A few of them looked shocked. A wizard's oath, was far more binding than most other oaths and spells of privacy, and much more grievous. While other oaths might simply keep them from speaking altogether, jinx them, maybe cause them pain, a wizard's oath would strip away their core and kill them if they tried to break it; not that they would actually succeed at any rate. It was Blaise who stepped forward first, to no small amount of shock, and pulled out his wand.

"I, Blaise Gethin Zabini, do hereby swear upon my magic and life, that any events which come to pass over the next twenty four hours, and any words spoken over the course of that same time, shall not be shared with any unknowing parties by myself, through any means, magical or otherwise. So mote it be." A thick vein of rope-like purple magic came out from his wand and twined around him as he spoke, snapping violently into place around him as he finished. He grunted as the magic went inside of him, presumably to wind itself about his core. Harry stared at him open-mouthed, and then Neville came forwards. He spoke the same phrase, wand out, changing only the name to his own. He smiled at Harry once it was done, and then, one by one, the others all repeated the process. It took him a moment, in the silence once they had all made the oath, before he shook himself and chose to trust them.

"My fa- godfather, is Sirius Black. He's innocent. I can't go into it now, but I promise I'll explain it later." The sharp looks he was recieving made it very clear that he would have to. "I have a connection with Voldemort, because of my scar, and sometimes I get visions of what he's doing, and what's happening, because of it. I saw him, with Sirius. I know that it's at the ministry, but I'm not sure where. It's a room with these... blue ball things." The last part he nearly mumbled, speaking more to himself than the others, but he looked up at the sound of a gasp. It was Susan.

"I know where that is. I've been there once, with my aunt. We didn't go into _that_ room but I saw it through a doorway, just this past summer. It's in the department of mysteries." She grinned, and Harry mirrored the expression with what probably looked more like a grimace, glad at least that they would not have to search through the whole of the government building to find where they needed to go.

"Think you can lead the way there?" She nodded, and he thanked her.

"Alright. Is everyone ready then?" They all nodded, no one speaking as the situation turned serious once again. He sighed and tossed the powder into the ever-burning fire. "Ministry of Magic!"

One by one, they vanished into the green flames.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

**Sanguinem Patris- Father's blood (a potion that traces the magical blood through the paternal side of the family)**

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Horrible place to end things, I know, but it was also the best place I could do it and still preserve the 'flow' my chapters usually have.

On another note, hopefully you lot aren't too angry about how things turned out with the confrontation with Sirius, and I really really hope you won't hate me after the next chapter. With any luck, most of you will stick with this story to the end, and I will too.

Thanks once again for all the support!

Until next time,

Mr. Hate


	9. Part One, Chapter Eight

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

**BEHOLD! AN UPDATE! AT ONE-THIRTY IN THE MORNING!**

I did say this one would come early, did I not? Hopefully you guys weren't driven too crazy with the couple days of waiting. Curse me and my sort-of-cliff-hangers. Also, the early hour is because I'm kinda-sorta nocturnal. I think I wake up at noon and stay up till eight or ten in the morning. Usually I update before I go to bed, but I decided to do it now instead.

When I wrote this chapter, it took me a couple of tries. I debated with myself a lot over what to do, and in the end it was Harry's character that made me decide where to take things. I wanted to make Harry more independent, and help him grow more, and, while this chapter didn't lead exactly where I originally planned, it allows for growth.

Don't hate me.

Oh! Before I forget, I did say I would reveal our poll winner for which character from the Avengers Harry will be meeting first. So here goes.

In third place, we have the most awesome agent in all of Shield, Phil Coulson.

In Second, the sexy and dangerous Natasha Romanoff.

And, in first place, winning by a landslide, we have the amazing, the incredible…

**Drum roll please…**

Bruce Banner! AKA The Incredible Hulk!

Oh! Two last things. Then that's it. Promise. First, I send thanks to the most wonderful Flaming Crow, who drew a beautiful bit of fanart for this story. There is a link on my page for anyone interested. Second, as you may have noticed, we have changed ratings from T to M. I didn't know for certain if that was needed, but I opted to take the wiser route of 'better safe than sorry'.

So there you have it. Now, on to the story.

Enjoy.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

The ministry of magic was a very different place at night, without the flying missives or people. They traveled carefully, following Susan into the elevators, and the lack of people made Harry nervous even with it making this easier for them. They didn't speak as they went, and with a whispered word from the Hufflepuff girl, the elevator was moving. They all became more and more tensed when it moved, and especially so when they reached the department of mysteries. Harry and Blaise each peeked out, and when they were certain no one was there, they moved out. There was a large door here, dark and foreboding, and they moved to it.

"Padma, Parvati, you two keep guard here. Use the coins if the elevator starts moving, so the rest of us have a heads-up. Keep yourselves hidden." They nodded and Harry praised the absent Hermione for having made the nifty little coins, and the gods of luck for everyone having them on their persons. He nodded back at the girls, feeling queasy, and the rest of them moved through the door. They kept close, huddled together so that they kept touching shoulders and arms, Harry at the front of them, his wand raised and giving of a faint green light.

They shuffled through the new hall that was revealed to them, a long, dark corridor, with another door at the end, and they all jumped and looked back as one when the door behind them slammed shut of its' own accord. Harry swallowed, exchanging glances with the others, and the nine of them continued on. The next room made Harry blink. It was circular, with many doors of various shape, size, and color, and as soon as the door was shut behind them, they all stumbled and grasped each other for support because the room was moving. It seemed to spin itself in a circle, and then stop, and they each looked at each other and the various doors in silence for a minute.

"You reckon we should split up?" Ernie asked. His face didn't show much interest in doing so, despite the question, and Harry shook his head.

"Not to go through the doorways no. Two of you should stay in this room though, to keep guard like the girls."

"Me and Ernie can do it." Terry suggested, and Harry nodded.

"Use the disillusionment charm. I've got a feeling wrong turns will lead back here, but I don't want anyone else to see you." They nodded, and Harry chose a door at random, entering it.

The room they entered was filled with clocks, hourglasses, and strange devices all of various sizes, shapes, and colors. They kept just as those together as before, eyeing everything around themselves carefully. They passed by a large tank of some sort. Harry watched a few moments, fascinated, as an egg at the bottom rose to the top, hatching and becoming a bird that aged until it became old and weathered, and then returned to the bottom, reversing the process until it was an egg once more. He didn't realise how distracted he had become by it, until Daniel touched his arm.

The others all looked curiously at him, and he nodded in thanks to Daniel for bringing him back to his senses, as Luna smiled knowingly. They moved on, skirting around one side of a giant hourglass filled with sparkling purple sand. On the other side of it was more devices, and then a door. Harry eyed the door. It wasn't the one from his vision, but it was... familiar... somehow. They went through it, and Harry recognized the dark corridor beyond it even more. The door at the end, he was certain that was the one Nagini had slithered under.

"This is it." His whispered proclamation, spoken more to himself than anything else, had the others tensing. They edged towards the door carefully; slowly. They stopped before it, and Harry stared at the door with trepidation, anxiety curling inside his belly. He pushed it down, swallowed, and opened the door.

The room beyond was just as in his dream. They were surrounded by shelves. There were rows and rows of them filled with glowing blue orbs, each the same size and shape, and with swirling smoke within them. He glanced at them as they passed, almost certain he could see moving, half formed shapes within, but whenever he started to make them out, they would dissolve back into smoke. He counted the rows, wand at the ready as he came closer and closer to the one he knew he had seen Sirius sprawled upon the floor of. He flung up his wand as he turned the corner of it and stared.

"I don't understand, he should... This is-" His face turned confused. There was no Sirius, no Voldemort, no death eaters. No blood or sign of a struggle. There was nothing. The others milled around him curiously and anxiously, and Daniel and Seamus stepped forward to look about. He looked down in thought, beginning to consider his options, and Seamus called out.

"Harry! It's got your name!" He looked up. The Gryffindor was pointing at one of the orbs, and Harry walked over to it. He realized, that the boy pointing, not at the orb, but at the bronze label beneath it.

_Harry Potter?_

He blinked at it. Gingerly, he reached out to touch it. His fingers brushed over it, and he was surprised to find that it was warm, and there was no dust on it, despite the thick amounts of it on the surrounding shelf. Before he had realized what he was doing, he had pulled it from the shelf.

"Harry!" His head snapped up, meeting Blaise's dark eyes. "Put that back! You have no idea what it is!" He would have responded, and opened his mouth to do so, but was beaten to it by another voice.

"It seems the dark lord was right, when he said you would come for your precious godfather." They all turned, wands raised, as one, to see Lucius Malfoy, several other death eaters standing behind him. Harry felt his stomach drop, as he understood, for the first time, that this was a trap.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry threw as many curses as he knew over his shoulder in quick succession as they ran, pushing down more and more shelves that just hit and pushed even more down like dominoes. The sounds of so many different voices coming from the orbs saying different things mixed with the sounds of screeching metal, breaking glass, and the various D.A. members and their pursuers screaming spells. It filled his sensitive ears and made them nearly ready to bleed. He winced at the sounds. They came into the time room and Harry yelled.

"Hurry! Keep moving!" He spun in place and held his ground. The others, trusting him, ran past without hesitation. The last was Neville, and as soon as he was certain the teen was out of the way, he sent a bone-shattering curse at the gigantic purple hourglass. It wasn't made of bone, but the curse still served its' purpose, and the great thing exploded, sending violet sand cascading outwards like a mini-avalanche. Harry turned and ran after the others, hoping his action would at least hinder the death eaters. There had been seven of them aside from Malfoy, but he was sure there were more on the way. This trap reeked of desperation, and Harry knew that, for some reason, Voldemort was unlikely to stop at anything to get the orb he was now carrying; keeping it carefully close to his chest and doing his utmost best not to drop it as he ran.

The others hesitated at the door at the end of the room, and Harry began to hear the pounding of feet behind him as Voldemort's minions finally got past the sand. He pushed the few still on this side of the door through and slammed it behind them, sending as many locking spells at it as he knew. The others pitched in, Blaise and Neville even including a few more. Something pounded against the other side and he knew it wouldn't hold them for long. Something in the air shimmered to his left and he knew it was the two disillusioned members of the D.A. Thoughts of them had a sudden idea snapping into place in his mind and he turned to the others.

"Disillusion yourselves and get against the walls in between the doors. Don't move a muscle!" They all scrambled to do as he ordered and he had just managed the one on himself when the door shattered outwards. He sucked in a breath and covered his mouth with a hand, trying to be as silent as possible. Lucius Malfoy stepped inside, and Harry prayed that their ruse would hold. The man looked around and then cast some sort of spell, and Harry felt his stomach drop. He prepared himself as the man opened his mouth.

"That way! They're in there!" He pointed at one of the doors and Harry's eyes widened. The masked figures behind the blonde man scrambled to go to it, rushing within the room beyond without a second thought. Lucius followed them more leisurely and paused just at the door. His eyes moved straight to Harry's position and ne nodded, before following the others. Harry stared after him, mouth open, and as the door closed the room began spinning again. His heart in his throat, he took the illusion off of himself, the others doing the same.

"What now?" Daniel looked anxiously at him, the other teens all with either similar expressions or ones of determination. He swallowed.

"We need to get out of here. I think... I think it was all a trap." He whispered the last bit, though the others heard him clearly, guilt making him feel sick. He had dragged them all after him and it had turned out to be nothing but a trap. His mind went back to the vision, and to Nagini's apology, and he realized she had been apologizing for the ruse, not the harm to Sirius. He swallowed, suddenly so confused, and someone grabbed his arm. His eyes snapped up, meeting a darker shade, and Blaise kept his tone even.

"We can talk about it later. Right now we need to go." He nodded. Blaise picked a door seemingly at random, but when they went in they found themselves back in the elevator lobby room. The Patils removed the spells on themselves, and Harry nodded at them rather than speak. They had never set off the coins, so the death eaters must have already been there before they arrived. They all crowded back inside the elevator, and Harry wasn't sure who gave the command, but within moments they were moving up.

He caught his breath, not really understanding why he needed to, as he has never needed to catch his breath after running ever since the animagus debacle. He pushed the thought aside for the time being, and sighed. He shifted on his feet, bumping into the others a bit, and someone put a hand on his arm. He found it to be Luna when he looked, and she smiled gently at him.

"There's more nargles." She whispered, and he stared blankly at her, raising an eyebrow at her oddness. She stopped smiling as the elevator began to slow, and her usually glassy eyes turned sharp and clear. Harry was immediately on guard, and raised his wand just as the machine stopped.

"Ministry of Magic, Main floor." The pleasant announcing voice told them, and as the doors opened, some feeling or instinct had Harry raising a shield. A blast of angry red light slammed into it almost as soon as he had done so, and a cackle filled the air. Harry's hair stood on end at the sound. It was a woman's voice, rather than a man's, so he knew it wasn't the Dark Lord. The tone of it though, frightened him. Whoever the woman was, she was likely out of her right mind. He kept the shield up as he moved forward, and gave only one command to the rest of his group.

"Stay together." His voice was firm and almost angry, hiding the true fear he felt from them, and they were emboldened by his apparent bravery. As soon as they were out of the elevator, the woman was revealed to them. Harry recognized her, and her violently curly and messy black hair from the wanted posters in Hogsmeade. She was Bellatrix Lestrange. She wasn't alone, there were five other death eaters near her, each wearing the black robes and silver masks that she lacked; dressed as he was in a messy, torn, red gown.

"Bombarda!" She dodged his spell rather than deflect it, twisting away from the tile where she had stood when it exploded like some sort of demented ballerina. Blaise threw a sickly green curse over his shoulder that was just a tad off-color from the killing curse and she dodged that one as well. When it hit the ground it made it melt and hiss as though acid had been thrown on it, and Harry assumed the spell was likely not a very legal one. He and Blaise continued casting at her, the others all seeming to team up against various others, and the world around them became filled with yells of curses and lights in every shade of color.

"Confringo!"

"Ventus!"

"Defodio!"

"Crucio!"

"Reducto!"

"Depulso!"

"Incendio!" The sounds of the spells was temporarily blocked out as Harry was suddenly forced to duck and roll to avoid a jet of flame. It whooshed over his head with a sound not unlike a roar, and he felt the heat of it against his skin as it just barely missed him. Something in him howled at the close proximity of the fire and there was a split second wherein he was acutely aware of his being a creature of water. He felt bile rising up and swallowed it down before leaping back to his feet, turning a scathing glare upon the insane woman who had just attempted to roast him alive. She laughed at him and he snarled, the expression twisting his face into something distinctly inhuman. Her smile faded a bit, her eyes now filled with confusion and just the smallest amount of fear. He grinned then, the action being more like an animal baring their teeth than a smile, and it showed off his sharp fangs that the newer glamour couldn't hide. Her eyes widened, and their dance began again, his curses turning nearly as vicious as hers.

He had her on the defensive now, having made her nervous and less confident. He was relentless, barely stopping to breathe between each spell, and Blaise stood next to him doing much the same, having caught on to Harry's new tactic. Bellatrix ended up dodging and throwing up shields now more than attacking and Harry felt his confidence grow. His vision narrowed as he became focused almost entirely on Bellatrix and himself, and, to a lesser extent, Blaise. The spells came from him almost without thought, falling from his lips through an instinct for magic and battle. The same thing inside him that had howled in anger when faced with the fire now sent forth an endless battle cry as adrenaline burned its' way through his blood like acid.

Blood rushed in his ears, and the world around him began to fade away. He was barely aware of the wide grin on his face, not too different from the one Bellatrix had possessed earlier, caught as he was in the surging tide of battle and the sight of blood from what small wounds he successfully inflicted upon his opponent. Then the moment was shattered with the sound of a piercing scream. It jarred him violently, unexpected as it was, and the state was shattered as the rest of the world suddenly rushed in on him. He turned, watching in slow motion as one of the Patil sisters ran towards the other, who had been hit with a crucio, if the fading red light was anything to go by. The death eater they had been facing was missing his mask now, his face rough and framed by wild dark hair that Harry didn't recognize. The man turned his wand upwards, towards the ceiling above him. Still trapped in the strange slow motion, Harry listened as a Reducto fell from the man's lips, each syllable spoken clearly and decisively.

The roof above them cracked and splintered, and the slow motion was shattered alongside the stone. He screamed something out as the large sections of stone fell upon the girls. He started to run to them, forgetting completely about his own opponent, and his distraction cost him dearly.

"Harry, look out!" The yell made him turn, eyes still wide and shocked from the sight of the twin girls being crushed, and he couldn't raise his wand in time. The spell that hit him was purple in color, and the light of it filled his vision, blinding him to everything else even as pain filled his body, centered on his face and chest. He screamed and was blown backwards, the orb he had kept safe up till now flying from his grip. It landed near him, and he heard it, just barely, before he saw it. It shattered right next to wherever he had landed, and the noise in the rest of the room was loud enough that, when he opened his eyes and saw how far from him all the other occupants of the room were, he knew he was likely the only one close enough to hear it at all, and then only because of his enhanced hearing. It began speaking before his eyes were open, though he recognized Trelawney's voice, though it was strange and deep, before he witnessed her smoky form floating above the shattered orb.

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..._"

He stared at it as she faded away, and a woman's screech of rage had him looking up. Bellatrix was staring at him with fury, and he knew at once that Voldemort had wanted the orb, and that Bellatrix hadn't heard what it had said. She raised her wand to cast at him, and he scrambled to find his own, realizing it was on the floor near him. Something wet obscured his vision, and he felt pain even as he moved towards it, scrambling to reach it.

"Avada Kedavra!" Her wrathful voice filled the air just before his hand closed around the stick of holly, and dread pooled in his stomach when he recognized that he would not be able to get away in time.

"Depulso!" A new voice reached his ears and Harry was sent skidding across the floor just in time for the horrible green curse to explode against the ground where he had been just a moment before. He sucked in a sharp breath as he slid and rolled, pain slicing angrily through him. He pushed himself to his feet as he stopped, gasping and looking up, no longer able to open his left eye as the hot, wet, liquid, which he understood queasily must be blood, had covered too much of that side of his face.

He found his eyes landing on Sirius, who stared with absolute fury upon Bellatrix. Other Order members rushed in behind him, Arthur Weasley, Kingsley, and Tonks among them and began to immediately cast curses. Relief and terror flooded his body all at once with the coming of the back-up, as he grasped they were not alone in the fight any longer, and there was a great possibility of his father being harmed. His worry faded somewhat as Sirius and Bellatrix began to duel, the battle looking almost like a dance, as they both weaved and dodged and struck in a manner that showed their familiarity with one another. He remembered the summer, when Sirius had shown him the family tapestry, and recalled that he and the woman were related somehow. They were cousins. The thought of two people who had likely grown up side by side fighting so viciously and possibly to the death made him feel faintly sick. A curse flew over his head and he was distracted. He turned away from them to the sight of another death eater, which Neville and Seamus were facing together, and seemed to be struggling with. He moved to help, as Seamus was limping and Neville favored one side, and was soon lost in the battle once more.

They were emboldened by his help, and within minutes they had begun to win. Harry sent a cutting hex beneath the shield the man threw up to block one of Seamus' spells, and it hit his chest dead on. The death eater gasped in pain, and his shield dropped. Neville finished him off with a simple Stupefy that had their opponent on the floor and unconscious, even as the wound Harry inflicted continued to bleed. Harry felt a sense of victory, and smiled at the other Gryffindors before turning to survey the rest of the situation. There were a couple more death eaters present than there had been when they had first entered the lobby, and he wondered vaguely when they had arrived. A couple of them were on the ground, one appearing to be out cold while the other wasn't moving, blood pooling around despite a lack of visible wounds. The order members looked to be handling those who were left, and he saw that Luna was down, though breathing, with Daniel keeping guard over her. Blaise was slumped against a wall, breathing hard, with his wand out and a shield around him. The others were all still fighting. His eyes moved back to Sirius and Bellatrix and he cried out.

"Sirius!" They were both grinning madly, much as he himself had been earlier, and seemed oblivious to the world around them. What made him cry out, however, was the masked death eater sneaking up behind his father. His cry had Sirius starting and then turning to look at him. Their eyes met just as a red light flew from the death eater's wand. He yelled out, but Sirius managed to duck, seeing the spell from the corner of his eye. He retaliated with a bright orange spell of some sort that had the man slamming backwards against the wall and sliding to the ground where he remained unmoving. Sirius flashed him a grin and Harry started to smile himself, when a green light exploded against his father's back. He screamed in anger, disbelief, and pain, and watched helplessly as the light faded from the man's eyes.

Sirius fell to the ground like a ragdoll, his limbs flopping to the sides like a puppet with cut strings, and Bellatrix was revealed from behind him, grinning madly with her wand still pointed at her cousin's back. Harry roared. Her eyes snapped to him and she paled, grin suddenly gone, and turned tail. He chased her, no thoughts of holding back his speed, and was suddenly sent sprawling; someone having sent a tripping jinx at hm. He snarled, and jumped back to his feet in time to see the edge of her ragged dress disappear around a corner. He dodged a couple more spells as he pursued her, and barely heard the sound of someone behind him calling out his name. He rounded the corner she had gone into, and found himself back at the entrance to the ministry of magic. She was nowhere in sight, and he growled low and long, and lifted his face to sniff the air just as he might have done had he been in his animagus form. The scent of sweat and human fear touched his nose and his growls grew louder. He edged towards the gaudy statue and continued to sniff; as the scent led him ever closer to the structure.

She suddenly leapt from behind it and sent a curse at him. She still wasn't smiling like before, and not yelling out taunts either as she had occasionally during his and Blaise's battle with her. He slipped easily beneath the curse and rushed her, thoughts of his own wand barely present. Her eyes widened almost comically just before he leapt upon her; sending her dark wand sprawling across the stone floor with a clatter in the process. She started to struggle almost immediately, and he snarled in rage. The sound made her flinch, and one of his hands clasped tightly around her throat even as her struggles increased. He kept one of her arms pinned down, and she punched him with the other; striking his head and side and wherever else she could reach. He barely felt the blows, his anger combined with past experiences with beatings serving to effectively numb him. He tightened his grip and she clawed at him now, her breath cut off. She gasped and struggled desperately, choking.

"You want to know a secret?" Her struggles didn't stop even as her eyes met his. He would wonder later what prompted him to tell her, and would decide that he simply wanted her to know why she was going to die. "James Potter wasn't my father. Sirius Black was." Her eyes widened further, and he suddenly squeezed as tightly as he was able. A sickening crack filled the air and her struggles abruptly ceased, even as her eyes remained moving and alive. She looked around frantically and gurgled, blood dribbling out of her open mouth. Even as she made one last ditch effort for breath, he didn't remove his hand from her neck, and she choked. Whether it was from the lack of air, or the blood entering her lungs, he didn't know, but it didn't matter. Her eyes rolled back and all movement stopped. He kept his hand there a moment longer, and then pulled it away, but she didn't move again. He stared at her, his anger slowly dying, and a cold feeling of completing some goal filled him alongside grief. Sirius was dead, but at least, so too was his killer.

He took no true satisfaction in her death, and suddenly felt sick. He stumbled away from her, falling to his knees and vomiting. The contents emptied quickly enough, mixed occasionally with blood, and he dry-heaved once at the end with a shudder. A sob broke through at the end, and he choked it down, uncomfortably aware that now was neither the time nor the place for tears.

"My dear boy." A hand touched his shoulder gently and he looked up. It was Dumbledore. The old man looked at him with sad, pained eyes, and that same sense of being very very old and tired that he had seen in his office what seemed like years ago. He wiped at his face, wondering why the headmaster hadn't been able to get here sooner, and they both looked up as one of the many fireplaces in this room abruptly flared with green light. They both watched as Voldemort himself, just as he had been that night of the tournament, stepped gracefully through, red eyes moving to them just as his feet touched the ground. The Dark Lord grinned, and Harry felt black hatred curl in his heart at the sight of him. He felt the urge to snarl once more, but held himself back this time, kept in reality only by the headmaster's hand on his shoulder. It was difficult for Harry, to tell how far or how close the horrid monster was, with the blood still keeping him from opening his left eye.

There was a ringing in his ears suddenly, and his vision blurred. He blinked, trying to be able to see with his one open eye, and he realized Voldemort was speaking. His voice felt far away though, and muffled, like it would if he was below the surface of the lake, and someone outside the water was trying to speak to him. He blinked rapidly, and tried to move to his feet. He stumbled, winding up on his knees, and he vaguely heard laughter. His vision grew dark around the edges, the adrenaline fading too much. He struggled in vain, and felt himself fall as the world around him went black.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry kept his eyes closed as he came awake as he could tell that the world around him was bright. When he did open them, he did so slowly, so that his eyes could adjust. Once they had, he recognized the ceiling above him immediately. He was in the hospital wing. His body felt stiff and sore, with the skin near his chest and on his face feeling vaguely stretched. His brow scrunched, and he tried carefully to recall how he had come to be here.

He closed his eyes again, tightly, when the memories of the ministry, of fighting, of Sirius dying, and him taking a life, returned to him in a flash. There was a sense of deep grief in his heart, mixed with no small measure of self disgust; but more than anything he felt numb. He opened his eyes again, and noticed that his fake glasses were missing. He knew he should probably find them, so that no one would think too much about it. He might not need them, but no one else knew that. He pushed himself to a sitting position slowly, and with a deep breath, not wanting to aggravate the soreness he could feel. Usually, when he woke up in Madame Pomfrey's domain he felt even better than normal, so for him to be sore still must mean that he had been even worse off than he might have thought. He sighed as he sat there, and looked over at the bedside table. His wand and glasses sat there, and he gathered them up carefully, noticing as he did, the still present bracelet around his wrist.

A sudden panic filled him. He had entirely forgotten about that. This glamour didn't cover up the scales on his back and sides, and he fearfully realized that meant the nurse had likely seen them when she went to heal him. As soon as this thought had formed, the woman herself came bustling out of her office. He watched her with wide eyes, as she came up to him with a smile. The expression, no different than her usual smile eased him somewhat, but he still swallowed. He grew even tenser as she pulled the curtains closed around the bed and began casting what he recognized as locking, privacy, and silencing charms on them. She turned to him when she was done, and her face grew a bit more serious.

"I feel it best to inform you that all healers take a very serious vow of secrecy as part of their oaths. I cannot share anything about my patients with anyone else unless they permit it." Her eyes landed pointedly on the glamour bracelet. "That said, I would like an explanation, Mr. Potter." He swallowed nervously.

"I became an animagus over the summer but I never took the Salvum Mutat potion." She stared reproachfully at him, but he offered no more information. After several moments, she simply sighed.

"I'm guessing you have your reasons for not sharing, and I have my suspicions as to why. That said, I won't ask, since whatever it is you've become didn't interfere with my spells overly much. In the future, however, I would appreciate it if you alert me to any unique conditions, since it's imperative for me to know such things in order to heal you properly." He nodded, relaxing a bit.

"Did anyone see?" She eyed him a second before answering.

"Professor Snape saw you, however, he seemed to be aware of your condition, and was the one to insist I get you behind the curtains before healing you. He was also quite vocal about removing anyone who didn't require my assistance from thee ward entirely." He nodded.

"How... How is everyone?" He felt a small pang of guilt at having not asked sooner, and her face softened. She sat down then, on the edge of his bed, something she had never done previously, and he pulled his knees closer to his chest.

"Mr. Longbottom had a few broken ribs, which I managed to heal without much fuss. Mr. Finnigan received a rather nasty wound to his right leg which will take a bit more work, but he should be fine, and I imagine that he won't even have a limp once it's been healed entirely. Ms. Bones required to have the bones in one arm regrown. Mr. Zabini's wounds were minor enough, though he did suffer a rather unfortunate case of magical exhaustion. He'll be fine after a couple weeks of proper rest. Misters Boot, Macmillan, Curtis, and Miss Lovegood are all perfectly fine aside from some easily dealt with bruises and minor wounds."

"And the Patils?" His voice was hopeful, but he knew the truth when she hadn't mentioned them. She looked very sad.

"Their funeral is tomorrow." He closed his eyes tightly, guilt tearing ruthlessly at his insides with sharp and jagged claws. He suddenly felt very ill.

"I'm gonna be sick." The nurse summoned a bucket for him, and set it before him just in time. There wasn't much in his stomach aside from water and what looked like the remains of a few potions, and he dry-heaved a few times once those things had been expelled. He sobbed when he was done, and Madame Pomfrey rubbed his arm gently. He didn't cry much, and had soon fought back his tears and gasped. The woman handed him a calming potion, and he took no more than a couple of sips before handing it back to her. He wanted to be in control of his emotions, but he didn't want to suffer through that cold uncaring feeling that calming potions occasionally inspired.

"You yourself received some rather nasty wounds. Someone struck you with a darker form of the cutting curse." He looked up at her, calm now, though with his emotions still churning in the background. "Wounds inflicted by dark magic aren't easily healed, and I did my best, but it will scar." He nodded, feeling that he deserved it. "You had some nasty contusions and bruising, and you lost a great deal of blood. If they had brought you to me even a few minutes later than they did, it's likely you wouldn't have made it. I expect you to take it easy over the next few days, and there are some potions you will need to take on a regular basis for the next few weeks. I'll give you the instructions for those, later. Now, however, you are needed in the headmaster's office. The password is 'lollypop' and I expect you back here as soon as you are done speaking with him. Is that clear?" He nodded obediently, and she helped him to his feet.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry dragged his feet on the way to the headmaster's office, and met no one in the halls. He wasn't far away when someone called out his name, and when he looked, he found he wasn't as surprised as he might have been several months ago, to see Frode looking down upon him from his traveling frame.

"That's a rather nasty scar, lad." He smiled bitterly.

"I deserve it."

"Why is that?"

"Four people are dead because of me." The portrait raised an eyebrow.

"Did you kill them?" Harry blinked.

"I... I killed one of them."

"And why did you kill this person?" He shifted on his feet.

"She... Because she killed my father." The man nodded.

"Am I right in assuming your father is one of those you believe yourself responsible for the death of?" He nodded. "Then what of the other two? How did they come to die?"

"They..." He shuddered, recalling watching as they were crushed beneath the falling stones. "One of the death eaters made the ceiling explode. They were crushed." Frode nodded.

"Then how are you responsible for any deaths other than that of the woman who killed your father?" He glared.

"Because they never would have been there if not for me! I'm the one who fell for Voldemort's stupid trick! I'm the one who lead Padma and Parvati and the others there! And Sirius never would have come if not for that! They would all still be alive If I had never gone to the ministry in the first place!" Frode nodded, and ran a hand through his short, pointed beard.

"You were tricked into going to this place?" Harry nodded defeatedly. "Did you force these girls and your father to follow you there?"

"Well... No, but-"

"Were they in their right minds? Were they sane and capable?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you are responsible only for the death of your father's killer. They were all perfectly capable of making their own decisions, and chose on their own to follow you to this place. You did not force or coerce them to do so, and nor did you strike the killing blows. They chose to all on their own, and knew the possible repercussions of such actions. To consider yourself responsible would be nothing more than an insult to them. It is like saying you believe they were entire incapable of making their own decisions and living their own lives." He looked sternly down at Harry, and the teen flinched and looked down in thought.

He considered Frode's words, the portrait having never steered him wrong before, and he swallowed. He hadn't considered it that way, and after several moments he was grudgingly forced to concede that the man was right. He hadn't made them do anything, and he hadn't been the one to kill them, even if he felt as though he had. He had killed Bellatrix, that much was true, and so he was fully responsible for her death. He felt very little guilt at that though, and the guilt he felt regarding the others eased considerably, though it didn't go away. He looked back up to thank the portrait, but he was already gone. Harry smiled in a way that wasn't really happy, the expression pulling at the scar on his face uncomfortably, and turned away.

He had a meeting with the headmaster after all.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Dumbledore welcomed him in with a smile, that, to Harry, seemed entirely inappropriate given the situation and present circumstances. He offered Harry a lemon drop, as always, and when Harry declined, as always, asked him to take a seat. Harry chose to remain standing. The twinkle in the headmaster's eyes seemed diminished by this, but not overly so, and he smiled in a gentle, grandfatherly way at Harry.

Harry felt like punching him, not able to understand what made the old man think it was okay to smile right now, but instead kept his hands fisted at his sides. The headmaster noticed this action, and shifted in his seat. The teen wondered if it was worry he saw flash across the old man's face, or something else. Fawkes gave a small, crooning sound that eased Harry's nerves, and when he looked at the phoenix, the bird's eyes seemed kinder than they had been during his last visit. It felt to him almost as though the fiery creature had come to terms with what he was, and accepted him. It wasn't all that different in nature to two people who used to be friends, had a falling out, and then became kind and civil to one another regardless of the fact that they would never be friends again.

"How are you feeling, my boy?" Harry's eyes strayed back to the headmaster, and he knew that he should have expected the man to drag this out a bit, as it was not in his nature to get to the point. He made a resigned sort of sigh and decided he would play along, though whether that decision was influenced by the mild calming potion in his system and Frode's calming words, or not, remained to be seen.

"Fine. A bit sore." The headmaster nodded, carefully eyeing the scar on the teen's face.

"I'm glad you are well. You had us all quite worried, having lost as much blood as you did; even more so when you did not awaken the next day." That caught Harry's attention.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days. It's Friday now, and it's rather lucky you woke up when you did. The train will be leaving tonight, a bit later than usual, and you should be able to ride with your friends. Had you not awoken until tomorrow, we would have been forced to find another way to get you home." The man smiled brightly, but Harry only scowled.

"What about Sirius' funeral?" At this, the headmaster's expression grew old again.

"I'm afraid we were unable to retrieve his body before the minister arrived. Since he is still legally considered a criminal, the ministry took his body to dispose of. He will not receive a funeral." Anger, an emotion that was quickly becoming all too familiar to Harry, churned in his gut. He thought to speak out, but instead held his tongue. Nothing he said would matter, even less so since this was Dumbledore and not the minister. Grief mixed itself with his anger, the two churning around each other and pulling evenly with rusty knives like a twisted form of yin and yang. "Some good has come out of this all, at least. Cornelius witnessed the sight of Voldemort with his own eyes before he was able to escape, so he is no longer denying his return. I expect that we might receive proper help and support from the ministry in the future." Harry found that he hardly cared for this news. It would help, yes, but he was too upset to truly give a damn.

"I see." Questions churned in his mind, and he decided to ask one, even knowing that it was unlikely that the headmaster would answer him. "What was that orb that Voldemort wanted so badly?" The headmaster's face grew a bit grim at this.

"It was a prophecy, of sorts. I imagine he wished to know what it said. Were you able to hear it, before it was broken?" He stared silently at the headmaster for a moment, thoughts churning through his head, and made his choice.

"No. No I didn't. Do you know what it said, headmaster?" The man nodded.

"It is not yet time to share that knowledge, however, though I shall endeavor to do so when you are ready." The smallest beginnings of dark hatred, not unlike what he felt for the Dark Lord, though not nearly so intense, began forming in his heart.

"Alright. Is that all, headmaster? I'd like to go pack my things and get ready for the train if it's alright. I need to go talk to Madame Pomfrey before I go, as well."

"Yes. Yes of course, my boy. Go ahead." Harry nodded and turned towards the door. His hand had just brushed the handle when the headmaster spoke once more. "One more thing, Harry. I know that Sirius' death likely weighs heavily upon you, and I would like to ask you not to do anything foolish. Emotions such as grief are what make us human, but they are not to be acted rashly upon."

"Yes, sir." He didn't bother to turn around as he gritted out the words, and opened the door to leave. When he slammed it behind him, everything made of glass within Dumbledore's office shattered brilliantly.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

Harry found himself in a compartment with Blaise and Luna once again. He had hugged each of them, making sure they were alright, and Luna had apologized for him having been struck by one of those few curses her armor couldn't defend against properly. Amazingly, the curse which had cut his face and chest had not touched the armor at all, simply gone through it as though it were intangible. It was not lost on him, however, that the wound on his chest, beneath the armor had been much less deep than the one on his face, and the scar less prominent, despite the fact that his chest had been the target.

He waved off her apologies, keenly aware that, if not for the armor, he might likely be dead, and after ensuring the two of them were well, and healing properly, and gaining from them the events of the past couple of days, they all slipped into a comfortable silence. Blaise was stuck in another book, Luna the Quibbler, and he himself stared out the window, watching the countryside go by, and tried carefully not to think of the events of the Department of Mysteries. Occasionally people came by to say hello, and goodbye, and to make sure he was alright, and Harry was glad to see that everyone was well, and didn't seem to blame him at all. Neither Ron, nor Hermione showed themselves, for which he was thankful, and the trip passed without any undue fuss.

He gathered his things as the train began to slow, and slipped into the platform after one last round of hugs and farewells from Blaise and Luna. He found Dudley waiting next to Uncle Vernon, each with pleasant, if awkward, smiles. Their smiles dropped at the sight of the scar on his face, and with a promise to explain later they were soon gathered into the car. He pretended not to notice them looking back at him frequently as they drove, and instead watched the world go by through the window.

There was a plan brewing in his mind, and he looked forward to putting it into action.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

**Bombarda- to bomb (a spell which causes a bomb-like effect upon the targeted area, object, or person)**

**Confringo- destroy (a spell which causes an explosion to take place on targeted area, object, or person, that is followed by flames)**

**Ventus- wind (a spell which creates fast-paced wind from the wand tip which can be directed by the wand like a conductor's baton)**

**Defodio- dig (a spell which creates gouges in the the targeted area, object, or person)**

**Crucio- torture (a spell which causes great pain upon the subject, presumably though the nerves, or through mental means)**

**Reducto- reduce (a spell which breaks objects)**

**Depulso- expel (a spell which pushes the targeted object or person away from the caster with great force)**

**Incendio- fire (a spell which creates flames that can be directed by the wand like a conductor's baton)**

**Avada Kedavra- to kill (a spell which instantly kills the target, presumably by stopping the heart and brain activity simultaneously)**

**Stupefy- startle (a spell which stuns the affected person, and which can cause unconsciousness when used with great force)**

**Salvum Mutat- safe changes (a potion which allows a person to become an animagus safely and without their beastly form physically affecting their human form)**

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

And here we are. I wonder how many of you guessed correctly at what would happen during the bit at the ministry. I had quite a few people beg me not to kill him off, and a couple that said they would stop reading if I did, but hopefully not too many of you are cross with me for it.

I would like it said that he has always been one of my favorite characters, and I debated my plans for him fiercely with myself. I would have loved to have kept him alive, but this road leads to a more developed, mature, and independent Harry. It works as a catalyst to give him a proper reason to fight, just like it did when Rowling did it in canon. Before now, Harry only had the deaths of his parents (who he doesn't remember) and one student (who he was never close to) to fuel his willingness to face Voldemort. Rowling killed off Sirius because he was an important character that Harry genuinely cared for, so that it would give him a good reason to want Voldemort dead, and I've done the same thing here.

Hated myself a tiny bit for doing it, and I'm sure most of you Sirius-fans will feel the same, but there you go.

As for Harry going a little crazy while he was fighting, and what he did to Bellatrix, I'll let you guys make of it what you will. Not ready to explain that yet.

I'll see you guys in a bit, at the beginning of Part Two. The update should be anywhere from ten to twelve days from now because it's an intermission. I look forward to the reviews, and I hope you all come back for more.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	10. Part Two, Chapter One

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

**AND WE'RE BACK!**

Miss me?

There were a lot of mixed reviews regarding the Part One finale, some good, some bad, but we're back now, and Part Two is calling your names.

So, this chapter marks the beginning of Part Two, and hopefully most of ya'll what read Part One are back for more. I've got a couple of notes to make about this chapter, so sit tight and we'll get down to business.

First off, this is one of those chapters were I've inserted some more cliché elements, but bear with them, and I'll give you an explanation to (hopefully) ease any worries you have at the end.

Also, regarding how he addresses Mr. Weasley, don't kill me for it, just remember the Christmas chapter from Part One. I've got a bit to say about that at the end also.

One last thing, not concerning the story itself. As you may have noticed, this update is several days earlier than what I had planned for. Simply put, I'm going to be spending a mini-vacation in a wonderful place with trees and no internet, so if I waited to update until after I came back, it would be later than what I promised. I'd rather offer it up early, and go back to weekly updates instead of four day one for a bit than break my promise, so there you have it.

Now, that's all, so on to the story.

Enjoy.

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are happy to inform you, that the kidnapping you have requested is well within our available services, and we shall conduct this event sometime within the next few days, likely outside of daylight hours. We regret to inform you, however, that our establishment is only able to hold prisoners for a period of no more than one weeks time, after which we shall have to cut the aforementioned kidnapping short. Payment for this service is not currently required, being that you are an investor in our fine establishment. As such, you may consider this task complimentary. We look forward to future business with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley_

_Weasley Wizard Wheezes,_

_93 Diagon Alley, London, England_

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

Harry sent a small, amused smile down at the parchment in his hands. It felt strange on his face, and it took him a moment to realize it was because he hadn't smiled in a while. The looks his relatives sent him when he looked up assured him of this. He was in the kitchen at the moment, having joined the Dursley's for breakfast, something he usually passed on even though Dudley would always come up to knock on his door and let him know the food was ready. He joined them for meals only occasionally, though they always seemed pleased when he did. At the moment, they were all looking at him with smiles of their own, and looks of relief. Was his depression really so obvious? He thought he had hidden his mourning better than that, but apparently not.

"A letter from one of your friends?" Petunia was standing by the table, having just placed a new plate of pancakes on the it, and she smiled at him while wringing her hands together.

"Yea. From the twins. They'll be picking me up in a couple days, just for a week or so, if that's alright?" The question of permission was added to the end as an afterthought borne from politeness. Her smile turned more genuine, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course! As long as you come home at a reasonable hour, and you promise not to get into any trouble while you're gone." He nodded obediently.

"I will. Um..."

"Yes boy, er, H- Harry?" Uncle Vernon, despite no longer belittling or yelling at him, had grown so used to calling him boy that he still occasionally struggled with it.

"I... If anyone asks, I'd like you not to tell them that I went anywhere this summer." It was about a month before school was to begin, and the Order wouldn't be picking him up until about a week before. He didn't really think they would be talking much with his relatives, but if they did, he didn't want it getting back to the headmaster that he'd gone anywhere at all. Vernon nodded, a slightly confused expression on his face, and while Petunia pursed her lips and eyed him suspiciously, she nodded as well.

Dudley said nothing, and rather seemed more focussed on his food, but Harry didn't expect any trouble from him.

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

It was a tapping on his window the day after the next that alerted him to the twins having arrived. He had packed a backpack full of things for the week, and he threw on his cloak and pulled up the hood before running to the window. He had already let Hedwig out the previous day, and informed his Aunt that they might be picking him up at night. She hadn't been pleased with the news, but had let it slide with the promise that they wouldn't wake anyone up. The twins were outside the window, each on brooms, and they grinned widely at him without speaking, and handed him another.

He recognized the model as belonging to a Cleansweap, which, while not a very fast broom, was better for travel than something like a Firebolt; which was technically a racing broom despite its' usage in Quidditch. He swung the backpack over a shoulder before climbing out the window and mounting the thing, and soon he was following the other two through the air; the English countryside passing them by below. They flew in companionable silence, and Harry relished in the feeling of the wind in his face. It wasn't as fast as he liked, and nor was it the water, but he felt better up in the sky than he had in weeks.

The summer had been hard on him thus far, left alone to wallow in his grief as he had been. He was glad for his conversation with Frode at the end of the previous year. If not for the strange portrait, he was likely to be wallowing in guilt as well. As it was, he only mourned. He mourned the loss of Sirius, he mourned the thought that he was truly an orphan, and he mourned possibilities; the possibilities of what could have been, had Sirius lived. He had told no one but Snape, and recently, the twins, of the truth regarding his parentage, and he had no intention to share the secret with anyone else, save perhaps the goblins.

His conversation with the centaur before he had tried to share the truth with the man himself weighed heavily on his mind these days. Firenze had told him that he and his family would be happy in time, and centaurs were rarely wrong in matters concerning the future. It was only very recently that he had come to understand what the magical being had meant, and even then it was only looking back on his past conversations with Frode which had illuminated him.

Not all family was such by blood, and not all those of shared blood were worthy of being family. It was likely that the centaur had been speaking on his chosen family rather than his biological one, when he had told him of future happiness, and he prayed the creature was right. He was so tired of being sad, or angry. Happiness would be more than welcomed.

In no time at all the twins began to move downward, and he followed them; the three of them descending into a small park with a number of trees, not more than a couple blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron. He pulled a black band from his pack, one of four, that he had constructed from the stone he had received the previous year from Sirius. He traded it out with the one already on his wrist, and as he did, his face was changed. Where the one he had been wearing previously made him look entirely human, this one did the same, while also altering his actual appearance.

Where before there had been a scarred and pale short-black-haired and green-eyed teen, now there was a tan long-brown-haired and black-eyed young man. His scars were fully hidden, and while not much of his other features were altered, the hair hung messily about his face and hid most of it from view. The phrase 'less is more' worked well in this case, and despite its' relative simplicity, the disguise worked incredibly well. He had scarcely managed to put the other band back within his pack when the twins had their arms linked with his, one of them on each side of him. He chuckled, and they walked through the park in a decent mood.

He sighed to himself as they left the cover of the trees (brooms now safely shrunken and tucked away in one of the twins' pockets) and headed down the street. He felt much more comfortable with the twins than he had while cooped up at Privet Drive; changed relatives or no. They didn't run into or see anyone they knew along the way to the Inn, though there were people about. Harry envied them their simple lives without magic or fear. They had no idea of the threat looming on the horizon, even in spite of the 'terrorist attacks'. They were all of the mind that it wouldn't happen to _them_.

Harry felt the magic of the place wash over him when they finally entered the pub, and nearly stumbled; the twins holding him up. He hadn't realised how sensitive he had become to magic until spending so long in a place without any. It was like coming to the Burrow, and having mum give him a hug. He swallowed and took a deep breath, smiling a true smile for the first time in well over a month.

Fred and George led him through the building, and past the few customers that occupied it, into the back where the brick wall way waiting. George was the one to pull his wand out and tap the stones, and Harry watched them in an awe not unlike he had when he was twelve; though this time it stemmed from knowing enough about stonelaying to realize just how incredible the process was, rather than not being able to believe his eyes. He eyed the archway as they passed through it, his fingers itching to run themselves along the bricks and hunt for the near-invisible runes which lined them. Fred chuckled at him, knowing him well enough to likely guess the chain of his thoughts, but neither he nor his brother stopped.

Harry pouted a bit at that, at least until he caught sight of where they were going. It was a new shop, and it was the bright colors of it that caught his eyes; vibrant as they were even in the night. The front was painted a shocking orange, the door in the front a fresh-blood red that should have conflicted, but didn't. The lining of the store was all an electric blue, a color that was continued on the inside trimmings. The walls inside were each a different color. The one of the door from which they entered was the same shade of orange as the outside, while the wall to the left was a lime green, and the one to the right was an eye-catching violet. The wall directly opposite them was a canary yellow. The floor, at least, and the counters and shelves were all unpainted wood. There were so many shelves, it seemed as though the twins had made it their goal to see how many they could fit within the shop and still have people capable of maneuvering about.

The shelves were filled with all sorts of things. There were all manner of sweets and trick foods, vials of various prank potions, gadgets of all sorts; some of which Harry recognized, but many of which he did not. There was even a box of what looked like colorful wands, and a bin filled with twitching balls of puff that Harry eyed warily. Each item had price tags either on it, its' container, or the shelf upon which it was placed, and despite the apparent randomness of products, there looked to be some pattern and organization to their arrangement.

There was a single, unpainted door at the back of the shop behind the counter, and Fred was the one to step forth and unlock it. This seemed to require the use of his wand, and quite a bit of muttering. Harry pitied any poor fool stupid enough to try and break in. Once inside, it appeared to be a storeroom, as there were more shelves, alongside boxes and barrels. Most of the products back here were packed away, however. There was a set of stairs at the very back that led upwards, a set directly next to it that led down. The downwards steps led to a door covered in warning and keep-out signs. Harry decided he had no intention whatsoever of going down there. They went up, the door at the top needing George to open this time, though in a similar manner, if with more muttering.

Where the shop had been an explosion of color, the flat above was constructed of various shades of brown, and reminded Harry of the secret tower more than anything else; with the various furniture being mismatched and occasionally patterned. The living area spilled over into the dining 'room' and then the kitchen to his left, while there were three closed doors on the separating wall to his right. The twins pushed him unceremoniously into a dark armchair that was far more comfortable than a chair had any right being, and which Harry sunk into a bit. They flopped in exactly the same way onto a reddish brown couch directly across from him, and gave simultaneous sighs. He snorted amusedly at the act, and they offered bright smiles.

"So then, how-"

"Have you been?" His smile faded. He had tried to come across as happy and well in his letters without lying outright, but honesty would suit him best in a face-to-face situation.

"I'm alright. It's been hard. I- I miss him."

"I'm sure he misses you too,"

"Wherever he is." He hummed and leaned back in his chair, and they drifted back into silence. They each had more serious expressions on their faces than what much of the world was used to seeing; though Fred's was much like concern, whereas George's face tilted somewhere near determined. Harry imagined Sirius and his parents together, smiling and laughing, and his chest clenched painfully. After awhile the redheads both bid him goodnight, and he found himself in the guest bedroom. It was small and comfortable, and he snuggled in for the night.

He laid down with a deep breath, and wished for things to go well.

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_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed._

_For those who take, but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry stared at the sign for several moments before entering. He was glamoured with the disguise still, though he knew the goblins could see through it. He wondered at that, having not known that information the previous year. He had been wearing the chain he and Sirius had constructed then. That meant the goblins could see his scales, tail, and other oddities, yet none of them had looked at him any differently than usual, or said a word about it to him.

The bank was still as incredible as it had always been to him, and he eyed the rows of desks, each row higher up than the one before it, and all containing various goblins and occasionally a witch or wizard who were all hard at work. He walked up to one of the desks at the front, and, rather than try and gather the goblin's attention, waited patiently for the creature to notice him. Eventually the old, wrinkled being set down his quill and looked up at him. He was (as far as Harry could tell) the same goblin from his very first trip to the bank, and his face now was decidedly less unpleasant than then, when Hagrid had vied for his attention almost rudely.

"Can I help you?" His voice was crackled and tinged with annoyance.

"Yes sir. I'd like to get a record of my accounts, holdings, and any property."

"Name?"

"Harry Potter." The goblin nodded sharply and turned to the left, yelling out something in a rough, splintery language that Harry believed was called gobbledygook, though he wasn't sure. Another goblin came over, much younger than the first, and a few inches taller. Where the old goblin's skin was not too different a shade than a human's, this one was more greenish-grey.

"If you'll follow me please." He nodded, and obeyed, walking after the goblin, whose short legs were moving rather quickly though Harry didn't need to rush to keep up with him. He followed him into a small, round room with ornate hangings and gold designs on the walls, though it contained no more than a round table with six or seven chairs situated around it. "Wait here please." The goblin grunted as he moved to leave, and Harry settled himself patiently into one of the seats.

His reason for being here was simple enough. He had at least a vague idea of what he wanted to do, and where he wanted his life to go from here, but to make any concrete plans, he needed to first know what sorts of assets he had available to him. If he didn't have much, he would be alright. He was used to having to take what he could get, and he could do the same here if it was necessary. It would be nice to have a lot more to work with, but he would get by just fine if he didn't.

The goblin who brought him here returned with two more of his kind, and, while the one left, the other two came to sit up at the table across from Harry with a single chair between them. One of them had a stack of parchment in his hands, which he set on the table, and he shifted through them a moment, while the other one spoke.

"I am Grimrok, and my companion is called Brakton. I am the accountant in charge of the Black accounts and estates, while Brakton oversees the Potter accounts and estates." Harry blinked. He had suspected he might inherit from Sirius, but he had not been sure. Grimrok was a grey goblin, and looked middle-aged, at least he believed he was middle-aged. It was hard to tell with a goblin. The other was as old, or perhaps older, than the goblin at the front desk, and his skin was a darker green than Harry had ever previously witnessed on a goblin.

"I'm Harry Potter." The goblin stared at him long and hard, and Harry swallowed.

"Are you?" It was the way he said it that made Harry's hair stand on end. He sighed, and realized that, regardless of how they had come by the information, the goblins were well aware of the truth.

"Harry Black, then." The goblin nodded once, giving him a pleased grin that showed off many needle-like teeth.

"Very well, Mr. Black. At the moment you only have access to a single account in the Potter estate, as you are not of age, nor have you claimed your lordship. Until such a time as you do, or you reach the age of seventeen, you may not access any accounts other than the trust vault set up for you for the purpose of your education by your mother and Lord Potter. There are a couple of vaults you may not access until claiming your lordship, even after having reached your majority. All the same, we have a summary here of your holdings and property."

"My lordship?" The goblin stared at him, something distasteful in his expression, and his voice was sharper than it had been when he answered.

"As Lord Potter was the last of the Potter family, and you are his heir, the Potter Lordship falls to you. The Black Lordship, likewise, falls to you as well. There are remaining members of the Black family, however, they are all women, and as such not able to claim a Lordship from the Black family because of the stipulations placed on the position by a previous Lord Black. The only other heir would be one Draco Malfoy, however, you are the first in line, and he is only to inherit should you die or be otherwise unable to. You may only claim one Lordship at any time, and doing so fully emancipates you, as such giving you the legal rights that you would receive upon your majority, as well as a single seat in the Wizengamot, if you choose to use it." Harry blinked. He was somewhat aware of what the Wizengamot was, but his knowledge of wizarding laws and politics was intensely limited.

"Are there any responsibilities associated with the position?" He kept his voice as polite as he could, though he could tell the goblin was irritated with him.

"As lord of your house, you would be fully in charge of any property owned by your family, and thus fully expected to maintain upkeep. A Lord is also fully responsible for any other unmarried members of their house, which, you do not have, as any living members of the Black family are currently married, aside from Draco Malfoy, who, while still able to inherit Lordship, is fully considered a member of the Malfoy family, and as such falls under the responsibility of the Lord Malfoy."

"So... Other than looking after property, I wouldn't have to do anything?"

"Unless a full meeting of the Wizengamot is called, upon which your attendance would be mandatory in order to keep your seat, no." Harry nodded, and they moved on. The goblin handed him a single sheet of parchment. "Here is a summary of your holdings and property."

Harry looked through it. There were seven vaults, five belonging to the Blacks, with two from the Potters. One of the Potter vaults was his trust vault, while the other was a much larger account that held mainly money with a small number of artifacts. Three of the Black accounts seemed to contain nothing but artifacts, while the other two were mainly money. One of them was much smaller than the main Potter account, and the other was larger. Two of the Black artifact vaults and the one with more money required him to claim Lordship, while the last two would be his once he turned seventeen. Aside from that was property. From the Potters there was some empty land in Godric's hollow, a small cabin in France, and a larger house with a small amount of surrounding land in Spain. On the Black side he owned Grimmauld place, a townhouse in New York, a house in Norway, an estate in Ireland, and what looked like a small castle in Russia.

The houses in Spain, Norway, and Ireland appeared to be occupied and he received a decent amount of money each month from those residences. Grimmauld place, he knew was still being used by the Order, while the French cabin, New York townhouse, and the Russian castle were all empty. He would leave all the occupied places alone. Whoever had been living in them thus far had likely been doing so for some time, and he wouldn't force them from their homes. He would leave Grimmauld alone as well, since the Order needed it, and it held too many memories besides, but the empty residences gave him some options.

He knew, that if he was ever going to get out from beneath Dumbledore's thumb, that he would eventually have to leave. He would still fight Voldemort, certainly, but he wanted to do so on his own terms, not the headmaster's. The cabin in France was close by, but perhaps too close. It wouldn't be too difficult for Dumbledore or Voldemort or any number of people to find him there. The place in New York was, by contrast, too far away. He didn't need to be all the way across the Atlantic, since he would need to go back and forth, and it might be difficult to do so when so far away. That left the Russian castle. It was close enough to Finland that it wouldn't be too hard to get back and forth from there to England, and it looked to be only a couple miles from the ocean, so he would have water nearby. It was nestled right at the base of a mountain, and he doubted that anyone would be able to find him there.

"As you can see, your wealth, while not comparable to someone like Lord Malfoy, or Lady Zabini, is nothing to be scoffed at." He nodded, and made his decision. He met Grimrok's eyes, and opened his mouth.

"How does one go about claiming a Lordship?" The goblin grinned.

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Harry smiled to himself as he exited the bank an hour or so later. He wasn't a Lord yet, but the process had been set in motion, and so it would only be a matter of time, or so he hoped. He wanted to remain at Hogwarts for at least this next year, so there wasn't much rush to get things done. He had a small amount of gold in his pockets, and while there wasn't much he wanted to get, there were a couple of things he felt he needed. There were a couple of bookstores in Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts being only one of them, and after looking into a few of them he managed to find a huge, thick tome on modern European wizarding laws that still weighed nearly five pounds even after having been littered with lightening charms. He also managed to find a relatively smaller book on the history of the Wizengamot. Just the thought of doing research into such dry subjects made him shudder, but it was needed. He would never go into politics, and unless a full Wizengamot meeting was called he had no intention of sitting in that seat, but, if a full meeting WAS called, then he wanted to at least have an idea of what he would be getting himself into by showing up.

He also found a small book on basic wizarding law in Russia, so that he would know what kinds of things he could and couldn't do, and what he would need to keep secret. He loathed such research, but he would deal with it. Aside from that, anything else he might wish to know, he figured he would be able to find in the keeper's library. Thinking of that, he knew he would need to start moving the books out of it, and find a place to hide them until he moved to the castle, or find a way to get them there ahead of him. He found a shop that sold bags and containers, and managed to find a small trunk, only a couple of feet long, a foot or so wide, and another foot or so tall that was much much much larger on the inside than his own school trunk. It was also entirely waterproof. Judging the inside of it, he bought four and had them shrunk to fit in his pocket. After asking, he learned that he could order more by owl if needed, and left.

In the end there wasn't anything else he felt he needed at the moment, so he went off to Florean Fortescue's to get some ice cream to bring home to the twins. Their shop wasn't open for business yet, though it would be by the time the Order picked Harry up to take him to Grimmauld and later get his school supplies. He sighed to himself as he walked down the street towards it, enjoying for the first time how no one stared at him; thinking that he was just another person on the street.

He wished it could be like this all the time.

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

The twins were gone when he got back, so he set about putting his purchases away in the guest room, and taking a shower. It had been a couple days since he had done so, and the feeling of the water on his scales eased his stress. He stayed under long after the water had turned cold; Diagon Alley possessing oddly muggle plumbing. When he got out, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, somewhat surprised by how much he had changed in the past year. He rarely sought to look at his own reflection, and any time he had done so in the past few months had been only a glance.

He had grown a bit taller this summer; still short, but much closer to the average height for his age than he had been. His skin, usually tanned after a summer of working in the garden, had grown pale; his grief having kept him indoors this time. It contrasted sharply and oddly with the black scales covering portions of his body. His hair, kept out of his face by the small, pointy horns, revealed his face for all to see, and had grown just past his chin. It was as wild as ever; maybe even more so, and the sight of it reminded him painfully of Sirius. His face itself was much the same as it had always been, if with a wider jaw and a lack of baby fat. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and the lightning bolt scar was joined now by a second scar on his face; from the cutting curse he had received at the department of mysteries.

This scar, not old and pale like the one from Voldemort, was still fresh and red, drawing attention to itself against his light skin. It started softly over his left eyebrow, cutting through the part of his eyebrow closest to his nose as it sliced sharply downwards across his nose to taper off on the right side of his jaw. It was continued again, lighter, on his chest; Slicing in an arc from his right shoulder, across Quidditch-honed muscles, down to just below his left pectoral. The whole thing together, from his face to his chest, looked like a large demented crescent or a backwards 'C'. He looked aged somehow, appearing older than the teenager that he was; his green eyes darker than they had once been.

He could see some of Sirius in him now when he looked. Old pictures of the man and James Potter showed that the two could have passed for brothers, though there were distinct differences between them. Harry knew, looking at himself now, that it was no wonder everyone had been fooled; believing he was James' child. Still, if you knew where to look, it was obvious he shared more in appearance with Sirius than James; gaining from his mother only his eye color, ears, and perhaps the look of his hands, which were long and thin rather than wide and large like Sirius' hands had been.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing the pain away, and shuddered. When he opened them again he eyed his hair. If he let it grow too much longer, people would likely start to notice the similarities between him and his father. He knew it would be better to cut it so that he didn't draw any suspicion unto himself. And yet... He looked carefully at the black locks. No. He wouldn't cut it. Let people think what they will.

He wouldn't mind looking more like his real father anyways.

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"They do what?"

"Curse anyone,"

"If they're stupid enough,"

"Who tries to get into your stuff."

"Curses them how?"

"Oh you know,"

"Just the usual,"

"Shaves their head,"

"Turns them purple,"

"Ties them up,"

"Gags them."

"**That sort of thing**." Harry stared at the innocent looking padlocks, and turned back to the grinning redheads.

"I'll take ten."

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

"What are these?"

"Pygmy Puffs."

"They're miniature Puffskeins."

"Bred them ourselves." A little red one popped his head out and squeaked at Harry.

"That one's a different color than the rest."

"Yea, odd ones pop up occasionally."

"Most of them come out like the others." Fred gestured towards the various pink, purple, and baby blue ones.

"We're trying to breed out the brighter colors,"

"Like that one."

"It's going well enough,"

"Aside from the occasional oddball." The little red puff ran around in a circle inside his cage and jumped a few times after facing Harry again. Harry watched the strange little thing, who was decidedly more energetic than his fellows, on top of his unusual color.

"How much?"

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Harry waved goodbye to the twins as they flew away from Privet Drive, the week having seemed to pass too quickly. The happily named Oddball gave a sad squeak from his place on Harry's shoulder, and he scratched its' tiny chin; the little parts of it not covered with fluffy red fur resembling a hedgehog or similar animal.

"I know, I'll miss them too." He turned towards the front door and knocked as Oddball gave a small sound of what Harry was certain was agreement. "Don't worry too much. We'll see them again soon enough." The creature hopped once excitedly and then scrambled to get its' purchase on his shoulder back. He was chuckling at it when the door opened. Dudley looked at him a moment before spotting his new pet, at which point he stared, then shook his head and stepped aside to let Harry in.

"Welcome back." His cousin slapped him on the back companionably as he entered and smiled at him. Harry smiled back, starting to grow more accustomed to the Dursley's new treatment of him, and being in an excellent mood after a week with the twins; both of which having firmly cemented themselves as Harry's best friends.

"Thanks."

"You have fun?"

"Yea. It was just what I needed." Dudley nodded firmly.

"Good." Harry blinked. Was that an edge of protectiveness to his cousin's voice? "So... What is that thing? It's not dangerous or anything is it?" He pointed at Oddball, his fingers twitching as though he were holding himself back from touching it.

"It's a Pygmy Puff. His name is Oddball. He's harmless." The creature, seemingly aware that Harry was talking about him, made several loud and excited squeals and spun, or rather tried to spin, in a circle; almost falling off of Harry in the process. Both teens chuckled while Harry caught and resettled the thing, and Dudley scratched at his head, first warily, and then with more confidence when Oddball crooned happily.

"Don't let mom see it." Harry nodded, smile fading.

"She'd panic, I know." Dudley chuckled at him and shook his head.

"No, I meant because he's so cute. She'll try to steal him from you." Harry looked at him disbelievingly, and his cousin only grinned. "I was planning on going to the gym in a bit. You wanna come?" Harry started, having not expected the invitation, and, after pushing down his automatic feelings of suspicion, nodded happily.

"Sure. I've never been before. Let me get him settled first." Dudley nodded, and Harry retreat up the stairs to his room to introduce Oddball to Hedwig and hope neither of them killed each other.

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Hedwig, as it turned out, adored the little creature, and had been insistent on him being placed in her cage with her, seeming to decide to treat him like an owlet. Oddball seemed perfectly happy with this, and was curled into a ball at the bottom of her cage asleep while the owl watched him protectively before putting her face up under a wing to nap herself. Harry left the sleeping animals to dress in something he thought appropriate for the gym, and run downstairs to meet his cousin.

After looking him over and giving a nod of approval at the grey sweats and wifebeater, Dudley led the way out; the two yelling out goodbyes and see-you-laters to the other occupants of the house. They jogged the way there, and when they arrived Harry eyed the many pieces of equipment, some of which looked very complicated, nervously.

His apprehension turned out to be justified even though Dudley showed him how to use everything, as proven later that night when he collapsed into bed; utterly exhausted and sore in places he never knew he had. He groaned into his pillow when recalling that Dudley had said they'd be going back the day after tomorrow.

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When members of the Order finally showed up it was to a Harry who had managed to gain a bit more muscle in his arms and legs. Most of his new abilities came from the magic flowing through his limbs rather than any physical improvements, so, while cursing him to death, he was still grudgingly grateful to his cousin for dragging him to the gym over the last couple weeks. He had a paper with various exercises that didn't require equipment somewhere in his trunk that Dudley had told him he should do every day, and he had agreed irritably while his cousin only chuckled at him.

It was Arthur and Moody, who he hadn't actually met yet since the man had been off doing missions all last summer, who came to get him, and his stomach dropped when the man's magical eyes roved over him and then landed on the band on his left wrist. The grizzly old Auror's normal eye met his and didn't move while Arthur came up to him and smiled. The man gathered him up in a hug.

"It's good to see you, son." His eyes snapped away from the Auror and met the Weasley patriarchs blue ones. His mind flashed back to Mrs. Weasley's request at Christmas last year and his mind ran a mile a minute. He wanted to answer the man in kind, but Sirius' face filled his mind with guilt. Then, unbidden, came a conversation he had had with Frode. Siris had been his father by blood, yes, but he didn't have to think of him that way. It was true, anyways, that he tended to think of the man by name more than anything else. He had never been able to think of Sirius and the word father as being connected properly. He didn't think of James Potter that way either. He swallowed, and made his choice, knowing that it would take him some effort.

"You too, dad." The redhead beamed with absolute joy, and the complicated knot of emotion in Harry's stomach loosened considerably. It felt right to call this man that. Blood be damned. He pushed away the guilt as Moody interrupted.

"Enough with the sappiness. We'll be takin' a portkey to Diagon. Ye'll get yer' supplies and then we apparate to Grimmauld. No dilly-dallying. Understood?" He eyed Harry carefully, but had apparently decided to hold his tongue, and Harry wondered if he could manage to avoid being alone with the man before he had to go to Hogwarts.

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get yer' things." He did so, the things he had purchased in Diagon with the twins all locked up in his trunk aside from Oddball, who was cocooned happily into a pocket of the robes he was wearing; fast asleep. He got his things all together, Arthur, _Dad_, he reminded himself, taking hold of Hedwig's cage. Moody held out an old cane, and they all put a hand firmly around it. The next moment Harry felt the familiar feeling of a hook behind his navel and the world spun uncomfortably around them. He landed on his hands and knees and swallowed down the bile that threatened to come up. Arth- Dad, patted his back and he gasped in a few breaths before he was ready to stand. "You alright there, lad?" He nodded at Moody and looked around.

They were crammed into a small alleyway between two shops, and Moody cast a charm to float his trunk behind them as they shuffled out into the main street. They walked quickly, shuffling from shop to shop as quietly as they could. Their behaviour wasn't noticed much, as everyone else seemed to be doing much the same; no one wanting to remain out and about for long with the knowledge of Voldemort being back among the living and creating terror.

First was the bookstore, then Madame Malkin's, the Apothecary, and last was the pet store at Harry's insistence that he needed to get some treats for Hedwig (and some food for Oddball). Here, Harry entered alone. Arthur had gone with him in every other store while Moody waited with his things, but this time Arthur opted to wait as well; saying that he and animals don't usually mix well. So, with a promise to hurry, Harry hustled in alone.

There was someone already at the counter talking with the owner, so he busied himself with gathering what he needed. He had just managed to get a few bags of feed for Oddball, when he was distracted.

"_OOOH! Over here! Over here! Pick me! Pick me!" _He blinked, looking around confusedly. "_Down here, brother! Down here!"_ He looked downwards, his eyes catching movement. He stared at the source of the voice; a tiny, bright blue snake whose scales sparkled and shone in a way that reminded him of the blue water flower a little mergirl had given him a year before that had eventually wilted and died. "_Oh, most wonderful human, take me home! Please! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!" _His gaze turned amused as he watched her bounce around like a spring and very much unlike a snake, before he glanced about the shop, and, after assuring no one was close enough to hear, kneeled down to reply.

"_I'm not here to buy anything, little one. I'm sorry._"

"_NO." _ He could almost swear it was glaring at him. "_I have picked you, and so you must take me! I will bite you if you don't you stupid traitorous egg-eater!_" She bared her fangs and rammed her head into the tank with a PLUNK. This served only to stun her and she swayed and fell back with a sound that came to him as a jumbled mess. He watched her incredulously, having never seen a snake that behaved such a manner.

"_Alright, alright, I'll buy you. Just don't hurt yourself._" She sprang back up at his agreement and began twirling around and letting out noises that he could only call excited squeals. "_But you have to promise to stay hidden in my robes and be quiet unless I tell you you can come out. Do you understand_?" She nodded exuberantly and began 'dancing' again, this time silently. he shook his head and went up to the counter, the previous customer gone now. "Hi." He set his things on the counter and the girl behind it smiled at him. Her eyes flicked up to his scar only once, though she stared at the larger one longer before shaking herself.

"Hello. Will this be all?"

"Um... Actually, I'd like to buy that snake, also." She looked over at the creature he was pointing at, who was still twisting and writhing about excitedly and raised her eyebrows.

"You sure about that?" He smiled in an embarrassed sort of way and nodded.

"Yes. I'd like anything I need for her too. I can carry her out, but I'd like a small cage if you could shrink it for me." She stared at him a moment longer, seeming to try and decide whether or not he was crazy, and then shrugged.

"You're the boss."

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Harry had been in the store just over ten minutes when he finally came out, a shrunken cage, bag of magically frozen mice, out treats, and Puff-feed in his pockets, and a smug, tiny blue snake wrapped around his wrist. The sleeves of his robes were long enough to cover her, and she was just big enough to wrap around his wrist once, with a tiny bit of extra leeway, and only about as big around as a pencil. The girl at the counter had said that she didn't know what kind of snake it was, as the owner of the shop had apparently just found her in the garden of his home a couple of days ago, and they only knew that she was a magical serpent of some sort.

Moody glared at him when he came out, and he grinned apologetically. The Auror's magical eye landed on the snake once, and he snorted, before turning to lead Harry off in another direction. Dad followed next to him, telling Harry about the wonders of a toaster he had found and been tinkering with with a smile on his face. Harry listened with no small amusement, and chuckled at some of the questions the man asked him.

Eventually they gathered into the little alleyway they had portkeyed to before, and Moody grabbed his shoulder a bit roughly to apparate him away. Harry was pressed sickeningly into a tube and spat back out, stumbling as they arrived just outside Grimmauld place, and kept on his feet only by the Auror's hand still on his shoulder. A pop sounded next to him, and he turned to see Dad pop in right next to them, Hedwig ruffling her feathers indignantly from within her cage; having not found the experience any more enjoyable than Harry had.

Harry sighed, and they all shuffled towards the house that had quickly appeared, and entered quietly without knocking, so as not to awaken Mrs. Black's still present portrait. The curtains didn't open as they shuffled by and towards the kitchen. It was almost empty, the only inhabitants being Mrs. Wea- no, Mum, and Remus. Harry looked at the table grumpily, remembering his last, rather unpleasant, experience in this room.

"Harry." He looked at Remus; dark green meeting warm brown. The man looked older somehow, and so very very sad. He smiled at Harry, but the expression was weak, and there was no real happiness there. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted.

"Harry! Oh there you are dear!" The vibrant came bustling over and enveloped Harry in a hug that felt wonderful to him; seeming to ease away all his troubles and warm him up from the inside-out. He sighed and clung tightly to her. The hug went on a bit longer than was probably normal, but no one said a word about it, and Harry felt much better by the time she started to pull away.

"I missed you, Mum." Her smile was as deliriously happy as Ar- Dad's had been, and the smile he gave in return wasn't as forced as such expressions had been for him lately.

"How have you been, dear? You look tired." She touched his cheek worriedly, and while he would normally have been uncomfortable, today he let her fuss.

"I have nightmares some nights. It's getting better though. I sleep through the night more often now than I did at the beginning of summer." Thanks in no small part to his continued practice in Occlumency, and exercising with his cousin. Mum bit her lip, but nodded. It was obvious that she was worried, but she looked willing to let it go with the knowledge that it was getting better. It helped that Harry was being honest rather than pretending that nothing was wrong as was his usual practice.

"Are you hungry sweetie? I was just going to make us up some dinner. How does pot pies sound?" He smiled.

"Sounds great Mum." She beamed at him and shuffled him into a seat at the table before bustling about the kitchen busily. He watched her for several seconds, before the sound of someone clearing their throat distracted him. Moody looked at him pointedly.

"I'll take yer' things up to yer' room. It'll be the third door on the right, ye've got it to yerself." Harry nodded, wondering why that room prickled at his memory before pushing it aside, and the old Auror shuffled out; his wooden leg tapping across the floor and Harry's trunk, now with Hedwig in her cage sitting on top of it, floated behind him and out of sight. A hand clasped on his shoulder and he looked up at Arthu- _Dad._ It's _Dad_, he told himself firmly.

"It'll just be us all for tonight. The kids will be here tomorrow though, with Kingsley and Tonks." He glanced at Remus when mentioning the clumsy Auror, and the werewolf shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Harry glanced at him in confusion, wondering as to the reason. "Dumbledore might be over to check on everyone the day after that, but I'm not sure. Thought I'd let you know all the same." Harry nodded.

"Thanks Dad." A crash had them both jumping and looking over. Remus had broken his teacup. He leapt to his feet and tried to clean it up, shaking a bit, and Mum hustled over to vanish it away.

"Th- Thank you Molly. If you'll excuse me," He shuffled out of the room, and the three of them watched him go; his actions looking rather a lot like fleeing. Harry's eyes widened when the thought hit him.

Remus knew. Somehow, he knew. Likely Sirius had told him about the conversation that day, and, whereas Sirius had been skeptical, Remus believed it. He swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling vaguely guilty.

"If it's alright, I think I'd like to go lay down." He looked up at Dad, who agreed with a worried smile and a nod.

"Of course sweetie. You go rest and I'll come get you when dinner's ready." Mum smiled at him and he muttered a thanks before fleeing, not unlike Remus, up to the room he would be staying in. He didn't look around it much, and rather just settled himself in under the covers of the large bed and closed his eyes.

"_Are you alright, big-brother?_" He opened his eyes with a sigh, and watched the tiny snake slither out from under his sleeve, looking at him with tiny gleaming eyes.

"_I am just tired, little one._" She slipped up to nudge her little nose against his cheek, and he smiled weakly.

"_You should sleep then, and dream of mice._" He chuckled.

"_Okay._" He thought for a moment, as the odd little snake slithered up to tangle herself in his hair. He let her, not up to trying to argue. "_Do you have a name_?" He asked curiously, berating himself for not having asked sooner.

"_Metis._" She hissed sleepily, before making a sound which he concluded was the snakey version of a yawn. He yawned with her, finding that he actually was tired, and closed his eyes again. It wasn't long before he slipped away into some much needed rest.

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Okay, so, first things first.

The goblins and the Lordship- Yes, way too overdone, but I need it to get things moving in Part Three the way I want them too. It's not going to play a huge role, and I promise there will be no Political! Harry or Pureblood! Harry. It's just a means to an end, and a catalyst, but I promise it won't be as cliché as it sounds right now, just relax. There are some really well-done fics out there where Harry storms the political world and figuratively kicks ass with every ounce of Slytherin cunning he has, but this isn't one of them. I'm keeping the pits involved with that simple, and you're not going to see Harry involved in the Ministry if I can help it.

Metis the Snake- So, Harry getting a pet snake is also very overdone. I know. I had never planned to do it here, and was just going to give him little Oddball, but then an idea hit me, and I just had to do it. She will be a background character for the most part, until probably the end of Part Three or the beginning of Part Four (not sure yet). She serves a purpose then, and then she probably won't be seen very often afterwards (if at all, since I haven't fully decided on how her arc ends).

Now, I'll see you guys next week for Chapter Two of Part Two.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	11. Part Two, Chapter Two

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

I've got sunburn on my arms so bad it hurts to move my wrists, but I'm back. If any of you ever get to drive an ATV, make sure you either wear long sleeves or put tons of sunscreen on your arms and the backs of your hands.

Anyways, I've got the next chapter here for you, hope you enjoy it. I know I haven't responded to all of the reviews from last chapter, but I will try to do so over the next couple days.

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Harry awoke later that night to a knocking on the door of his room, and moved into a startled sitting position with a bleary and confused "Wha?"

"Harry? Dinner's ready sweetheart." He blinked at the door, bewildered for a moment before his senses came back to him.

"I'll be right down!"

"Okay, sweetie." There was the sound of footsteps leading away, and he rubbed at his face. Something moved in his hair, and he reached a hand up, panicked before they touched something smooth, which he pulled away to reveal his newly bought snake. Mettle? Metty? No, _Metis_. He nodded to himself; that sounded right. She hissed sleepily at him and he set her down on his pillow.

"_Stay here._" She mumbled something that could have been agreement or a curse, and he climbed out of the bed and stretched. He had slept with the glamour on, so after straightening his clothes and taking off his robe and throwing on the bed, he was ready to go. Oddball crawled out of his robe and hopped after him and he stared at the red puffball with bewilderment. Had he slept with the creature in his pocket? How had he not squished him?

Oddball squeaked excitedly and bumped against his leg, attempting, and failing, to climb him. He chuckled, and, on a whim, picked up the Puff and set it up on top of his head. The little creature cooed happily and spun in a circle before settling down comfortably with a sound that, in words, would be 'chuff'. He grinned at its' antics, and headed downstairs.

Those in the kitchen stared at the little creature on his head when he walked in, and he shrugged. They seemed to take that as answer enough, and Moody and Dad returned to the conversation they had been in previously; something to do with the ministry, while Remus continued to stare at him and Mum bustled about the kitchen fretfully as she tried to make everything perfect. He sat down and shifted uncomfortably; Remus' gaze making him feel awkward.

"Here you go dear." Mum settled a plate in front of him with a pot pie without a top. He hadn't seen it made that way before, and would have questioned it except that the smell suddenly hit nose, and all other thoughts went quickly out the door. The scent was divine, and he hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He couldn't help thinking that Voldemort would turn his whole life around and become a saint if he ever had so much as a bite of Molly Weasley's cooking. It helped that he was still a teenager, and prone to bouts of hunger as he grew. Thoughts of Remus' staring or anything else were forgotten in the heaven that is a proper homemade meal.

He was nearly done when he heard chuckling, and looked up to see the adults laughing at him. He flushed with embarrassment and ducked his head.

"Slow down, boy. It's not gonna jump off yer plate." Moody chuckled.

"You never know." Dad winked at him, and he looked away, ashamed; eating the last few bites much more slowly.

"Oh stop teasing him. It's not his fault he's a growing boy. At least he has table manners." Mum admonished, eyeing Moody pointedly; who looked almost mutinous.

"I've got table manners."

"Table manners of a Troll, maybe." Harry couldn't help but laugh with the others at the Auror's expense as the old man grumbled in false irritation; his own embarrassment already forgotten.

The rest of the meal passed in a similar manner, with everyone teasing and joking; even Remus joined in eventually. The meal wasn't nearly so loud as a dinner at the Burrow, but it was nice, and full of laughter, and Harry felt very much like a part of a family. He was almost sad when it ended, and everyone started to wander away; Moody off to do who knows what, Dad back to the Burrow to look after his other children, and Remus up to his own room in Grimmauld.

Only Harry and Mum remained, to clean up the kitchen. They worked in silence, Harry taking care of the dishes while the woman looked after everything else. When they were done, she kissed him on the cheek and told him she would be in the living room with a book if he needed her, and Harry went back up to his room.

He stopped outside the door, and froze, suddenly realizing why the location of the room was so familiar. It had been Sirius' room, before. He had never gone in it before, though he had seen inside through an open door once, and at the time it had looked like it hadn't been changed or touched since his time before Azkaban; the inside messy with posters and pictures covering the walls, and various devices for pranking scattered about.

He opened the door now, and something in him ached painfully when he looked around. He hadn't really done so before; tired as he was. The room was empty and bare; everything of Sirius' likely having been taken elsewhere. The blue walls held no posters, and there was nothing in the room itself but the bed, a dresser, a desk, a window, four walls and the floor and ceiling. He closed his eyes with a shuddering breath. Oddball scratched at the top of his head and made a sad noise.

"I'm okay." He told it, never questioning that Oddball could understand him, even though Pygmy Puffs weren't supposed to have a high intelligence level. Dogs could feel their owner's emotions, and learn what certain words and phrases meant, why couldn't this little creature do the same? "I'll be alright." He turned back down the stairs, his good mood from dinner now long gone, and went to the living room. Mum looked up just after he entered, sitting in a ragged green armchair with what looked like a cooking book, if the picture on the cover was anything to go by. Something in his face must have shown his distress, because her own face turned worried and she stood; book forgotten on the arm of the chair.

"What's the matter dear?"

"Where's Sirius' stuff?" His voice cracked in the middle and he breathed in deeper. She watched him a moment, seeming to debate with herself, and sighed.

"We put it all in a trunk in the attic. Dumbledore thought it might be better for you to not have too many reminders around." Her voice was soft, gentle, and while he felt sharp anger rolling inside of him like a ball of needles, he directed it only at the headmaster; not able to be mad at this woman. He nodded sharply, teeth gritted, and turned back up the stairs, hearing her sigh behind him.

Just because he couldn't think of the man as his father didn't mean he hadn't loved Sirius, and the headmaster should have spoken to him first before deciding what was and wasn't best for him. He had to concentrate to not stomp as he passed through the hallway and to the next set of stairs. There was a third floor before the attic which contained only four rooms as opposed to the previous floor's six, and was preceded by a door at the end of the third floor hallway. Scratching noises came from one of the rooms but he ignored them, having eyes only for the door at the end of the hall.

It let loose a great deal of dust as he opened it, making him cough and wave a hand around, and when it settled he found himself facing a set of much more rickety and narrow steps than the others in the house. His shoulders touched the walls almost constantly as he ascended, and nearly every step gave a groan or a creak of some sort. It was dark at the top, and he could just barely make out a hanging chain, that, when pulled, filled the dusty old space with dull yellow light. There was a layer of dust on the floor that was broken by a single set of footprints and drag marks. The footprints lead into and out of the attic, while the drag marks led over to an old, ornate trunk that was larger than Harry's school one.

He stood there and stared at it for over a minute, breathing hard. Eventually he calmed, and moved over to it. He reached a hand out, and shakily ran it across the top. There was a bronze plaque at the front, near the latch; _Sirius Black III_ engraved into it in elegant script. He reached a hand to open it and then stopped and shook. He sat down in front of it, no care at all for the dusty floor, and put his head in his hands.

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Harry groaned, and pushed himself up. His back ached terribly and something tickled his nose; making him sneeze. He blinked around himself, and straightened his false glasses on his face. He stretched, his back aching even after being cracked, and found that he had fallen asleep in the attic. His clothes were covered in dust and dirt, and he sighed, sitting cross-legged. Oddball nudged his leg with a questioning coo, and he gathered the red ball of fluff into his arms. He pet the creature, and looked carefully on the trunk he had passed out in front of. The tiny attic window showed darkness outside, and he wasn't sure how long he had been out, though the utter _silence_ of the house suggested that it was very late.

He stood up, stretching again. His back cracked again a bit, though it still didn't ease the pain of it, and he grumbled. It seemed he would just have to deal with that for awhile. He sighed tiredly, and touched the trunk. Where the rest of the attic was particularly dusty, the trunk was spotless. He shuddered and turned away. He would be in Grimmauld for the whole week, and the trunk wasn't going anywhere. It was late now, and he could always come back up after some proper rest.

His stomach grumbled as he slipped down the attic steps, going slowly so as not to make them creak too much. He shut the door behind him and opted for the kitchen rather than his, no, Sirius' room. He kept silent as he slipped through the house; not wanting to wake anyone up. He cringed with every floorboard or stair that made a noise, and was extra careful when sneaking by Mrs. Black's portrait. If he woke _her_ up, she'd wake _everyone_ up. He slipped into the kitchen backwards, and closed the door with a sigh and little more than a 'pop' as it closed.

"What're you doin' up?" Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, and spun quickly around to find Moody sitting at the kitchen table with what looked like a glass of liqueur; if the half-empty bottle next to it was anything to go by. Both the man's eyes, the normal and the magical, were fixed on Harry, and the only light in the room was a single candle on the table that cast strange shadows over the Auror's heavily scarred visage. Harry gulped, realizing that his plan to avoid being alone with the man seemed to have failed spectacularly.

"I- I was hungry." Moody nodded towards the cabinet.

"There's some bread under stasis, and water, too, I think. Glasses w'll be up there." He pointed towards a cabinet above the other, and Harry moved carefully over to them, body tensed with nerves that only grew worse once his back was to the man. No attack or anything else came as Harry gathered up a glass of water, some bread, and even an apple he had found in the back, and he settled himself in at the table across from the old Auror.

He ate in silence, acutely aware of the other's eyes on him but refusing to look up. The sound of him chewing seemed unreasonably loud in the silence, and the man didn't say a word until after he was almost halfway done.

"I can make a guess or two as ta how ye' came to look the way ye' do." Harry's eyes snapped up to him. "I've seen something similar a time or two. People who rush through trying to become an animagus and forget to take the proper precautions." Harry looked back down, setting the bit of bread in his hand back on the plate; no longer so hungry. "That said, I've never seen anyone who ended up lookin' quite the way ye' do now." Harry's hands began shaking, fear and dread like beasts in his stomach, as he grew acutely aware of the fact that this man was an Auror, retired or not. "Calm down, lad. I ain't gonna turn ye' in." The teen's eyes snapped back up, meeting the Auror's single blue one, but he could detect no trick there.

Moody's inner animal was a scarred up old tiger in a ghostly shade of grey, and it had made no movement or sound from its' place at the Auror's feet aside from the flicking of its' tail. The beast had a poker face just as great as the man it belonged to, and looked rather calm. The sight of it calmed him somewhat, but nerves still twisted unpleasantly inside him.

"Here." Moody filled his glass halfway and pushed it along the table towards Harry, the sound filling the room. Harry stared at the clear liquid, not unfamiliar with alcohol; nights in the dorms after a Quidditch game being fully able to attest to that fact. Moody gestured a 'go ahead' signal with his hand, and Harry picked it up. It wasn't as strong as firewhiskey. It didn't burn as sharply when it went down, for which he was thankful, and there was an undertone of something like peppermint or some similar thing. Harry hummed, pleased with it.

"What is this?"

"Rumple Minze. It's a muggle liquor from Germany." Harry nodded, and sipped at it, the other getting up to get another glass. "Calms yer' nerves, don't it, lad?"

"A little."

"Good." The old man sat back down with a grunt, and poured a glass for himself. "A lot of people, don't know it, but there are a lot more kinds o' magic in the world that jus' dark and light. Fer' instance, a lot o' the time, what we call dark, is really black. Do' ye know the difference between dark and black?" Harry shook his head and the man hummed. "Well, dark magic, unlike light magic, is just magic that requires a price. Something like, a vial of human blood in exchange for healing a nasty wound, or a bit of energy for makin' a fire or the the like. Dark magic, it's volatile. Ye' can only guide it, not control it outright, cuz it's wild. Wild like a wolf, or the weather, or the sea. It might do what ye' want it to, but only it it wants to, too. Ye' can't ever make dark magic do anythin' it don't wanna do. That's why people are so scared o' dark creatures. They'll always do what they want. They'll go where they want, eat what they want, and mate what they want. If a dark creature decides it's gonna live in a forest, and doesn't wanna share it's home, and a wizard tries to move in, it's not gonna stand for it. It's gonna attack em' and drive em' out. Tha's why wizards w'll say dark creatures are dangerous, cuz they are, but only when ye' don't respect 'em." Harry nodded, knowing some of this from the research he had done with Sirius last summer.

"A- and black magic?" Moody eyed him.

"Black magic, is just evil. It's cold and vicious an' merciless. It's the stuff of nightmares and made up of anger and horror and all sorts of nasty things in the world. It's the sort of stuff that asks for death or rape or torture in exchange for usin' it, and even then, it always turns on the person bargaining with it. It belongs to demons and monsters, and ye' can't get away with messin' about with those sorts o' things." Harry gulped, and set his glass down; now empty. Moody poured more into it, and the teen mumbled out a thanks. "That's why people mix em' up see. Cuz they they think that somethin' that needs pain or torture to do it, can't be all that different than somethin' what just needs blood. There's other things too, what get mixed in and called 'dark' when they're not even dark or black."

"Like what?"

"Like the killin' curse." At Harry's disbelieving face, the Auror chuckled. "It's true. Killin' curse is a neutral spell, a grey spell, if ye' will. Man who invented it did it so he'd have a humanitary way to kill cattle and pigs and the like for food without havin' to gut 'em. Wasn't until some bastard thought to use it on other people that they made it illegal and called it 'dark'." Harry bit his lip.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Moody stared intently at him.

"Because, I want ye' to know that I know the difference between something that's dark, and something that's evil. The law, and people, ain't always right, and I'm not an Auror anymore." Moody sat back in his chair. "I'm no fool, boy. I know when trouble is brewin'. I don't know what ye' got planned, but I'll be here for ye' if ye' need me to be." Harry fidgeted.

"Even if that meant going against Dumbledore?"

Moody stared at him with a sharp gaze. "Even if." Harry watched the man for a minute, and nodded. The Auror grinned, the expression seeming so misplaced on his scarred face, and raised his glass. "To havin' people in yer' corner." Harry clinked his glass against the other's and downed it with a smile.

It was nice to have people on his side.

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The next morning, when Harry awoke to a book on defensive spells next to his pillow, a note on top saying that Moody expected him to master them all by the next summer, he nearly changed his mind. He glared at the man when he came down for breakfast, but was only offered a bright, gnarled smile in response that only made his mood darken further. He had never been a morning person.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Mum's voice was almost wary, careful, and he was confused as to why for a moment until memories of the day before returned to him and he flushed with shame. He had been rather rude to her, in his anger towards the headmaster.

"I'm feeling much better Mum." He couldn't bring himself to apologize, but the woman smiled anyways. Her own inner animal showed no signs of anger, so he figured it was genuine. He had hardly ever noticed the creature previously; the little red mouse being so at odds with her bounding and loud personality that he still couldn't understand how it could possibly represent her as a person. Dad's animal, which he also rarely took notice of, was, by comparison, a golden cat, that, if solid, would likely be a Russian blue or some similar breed. It was such a strange match up, not just in the animals to the personalities, but also in the animals to their relationship with one another, that he tended to ignore the intangible creatures entirely, if only because it was so difficult for him to find any correlation between animal and person. With most other people it seemed fairly straightforward, so the odd ones were utterly confounding to the teen.

He had, at one point, considered if the animals had any connection to family; as in family members having similar animals. This theory had been utterly abandoned after Christmas the previous year, when he had been in a house with all but two of the Weasley family. Dad was cat, Mum a mouse, Bill a wolf, George a hyena, Fred a fox, Ron a dog, and Ginny a horse of all things. He hadn't yet met Charlie or seen Percy since gaining this ability, but the animals currently shown to him ranged from equine, to vulpine, to canine, to feline, to rodent. On the other hand, all three Malfoy's were cats of various forms. He had seen Mrs. Malfoy the previous year in passing while school shopping, and the woman's animal had been a lanky cougar. He knew that Draco was a kneazle, and when he had seen Lucius Malfoy during that debacle at the ministry, the man had been tailed by what he thought was a particularly large bobcat.

He wondered if a person's animal changed as they grew up and thus had something to do with the way they were raised, or if a person's inner creature was determined at birth. He hadn't come across any young children to test this thought, though he would look into the first years from last year and see if any of their animals had changed at all this year. He pushed the thoughts away with a shake of his head and sat down, Mum having gone back to the stove to fiddle with breakfast. He would need to give her a proper apology later when there wasn't a lump in his throat and he could trust himself not to rant about the headmaster, but the matter could wait for the time being.

Remus didn't look to be down yet, for which he was grateful. He had made his choice about family, choosing to stick with what he knew and let sleeping dogs lie, and while he would like very much to include Remus in his little impromptu family, he wasn't sure how to explain himself without offending the werewolf. He considered talking to Severus about it, but after a moment of thought abandoned the idea. Severus might be willing to try and play nice with Remus, but he still avoided the other when possible, and it wouldn't be the best idea to turn to him with problems regarding him. It would be best just to either handle it on his own or see if either of the twins had an idea of what to do.

"Here you go, Harry. Eat up." Thoughts of all else were set aside in the face of breakfast, and Harry dug in with great joy. The rest of the world could wait until his stomach was full.

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Ron, Ginny and Hermione arrived after breakfast alongside Dad, and Harry retreated upstairs to Sirius' room to read. He wondered for a moment as to why exactly Hermione was here, since he and the brainy witch weren't really friends anymore, before recalling that she was dating Ron. It didn't matter really. Ron had given him a guilty look when they had arrived, eyeing his new scar and looking as though he wanted to say something, but Harry had pointedly ignored him. It might be rather childish, but at the moment he didn't care if the other teen wanted to apologize or try and make up for what he had done. The wound left by what was, firmly in Harry's mind, his betrayal, was still too fresh for him to be willing to open it yet.

So instead he settled himself on Sirius' bed with the book on European law and tried to find the section on Lordship and emancipation. It proved to be as dull a read as he had thought, but he carried on with determination, and jotted down everything he felt he needed to recall in a notebook; one of many he had bought from a convenience store a couple blocks from Privet Drive. The book, while dull, was informative, and he didn't regret its' purchase even as he groaned at the research. He hated studying anything that didn't have to do with something interesting, like runes, or Quidditch, or dragons or something.

By the time he stopped, stretching in discomfort from having sat in one position so long, he was surprised from a look at the clock that he had been into it for nearly three hours, and it was almost time for lunch. His stomach groaned at that knowledge, and he wondered when he had apparently lost the ability to keep track of when he was hungry. He scratched Oddball under the chin and put the furry creature back up on his head before leaving the room; Metis latching onto him before he could and curling into place around his wrist in silence. He was too tired to bother trying to make her stay, though she had been much calmer and more amicable since he had taken her from the store.

His trip downstairs showed that the kitchen was empty, so he figured it likely wasn't as close to lunch as he had first thought, and he grabbed an apple to stave off the hunger. He threw it from hand to hand as he left the kitchen, intending to go back to the room and debating on whether he should continue where he had left off or take a break and delve into something more interesting, like runes.

"Harry?" He looked up to find Ron blocking his path to the stairs and his expression darkened. The other teen looked from his face to Oddball, lip twitching a moment, and then back, any amusement gone at the sight of Harry's quickly forming scowl. "I... Um... Can I talk to you?"

"No." The redhead spluttered, and then his face began reddening; a reaction Harry was well familiar with.

"Why not?" He snapped.

"Because I don't want to hear anything you have to say." He pushed past him to go back up the stairs. He knew he was being unreasonable, and perhaps even petty, but his anger at the other was still too fresh for him to really care. Ron snorted.

"Should of known. You're just as much of a prat as Malfoy now. That snake give you lessons on how to be a ponce?!" Anger flared sharp and bright through his mind like a hot blade, but he ignored it and Ron, knowing he would only make matters worse if he rose to the bait. He made his way up the stairs and had reached the fourth step or so when Ron spoke again. "Can't even say anything can you? Nothin' but a damned coward, no different than Black, hiding in the damn house instead of helping the Ord-."

With a snarl he had spun around and Ron was slammed up against the wall before the redhead had even seen him move. He made a bang as Harry pinned him, and the curtains covering Mrs. Black down the hall flew open.

"FILTH! HORRID BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY HOUSE-" He ignored her screeching; putting his mouth close to Ron's ear so the other could hear him.

"Don't you dare, ever, insult Sirius," His voice lowered. "Or I. Will. Kill. You." Fury burned through his heart, fueled by grief and pain and Ron paled rapidly, looking so white that his freckles stood out far more and made him look strange and sickly. Harry growled at him, and dropped the teen just as Mum, Remus, and Moody finally came running in. He could hear more footsteps upstairs, so the others were likely coming as well.

Moody took one look at him, then at Ron, and snorted. Mum ran to her biological son, slumped on the floor as he was to make sure he was alright. Remus looked rapidly back and forth between the two of them and down the hall towards the screaming portrait; as though he didn't know what to do. Harry walked away from them, towards the portrait. He stood in front of her, the woman screaming out obscenities at him and glared. He slammed a hand into the painting and the lady stopped, stumbling back from the front of the frame as though she had really been struck.

"Shut up, or I'll set your frame on fire." She glared out at him, but didn't begin screaming again at least. He stared her down, and then pulled the curtains shut, not having to fight with them as the portrait wasn't working to keep them open like she normally would. He turned back to the others and headed up the stairs, brushing past the girls (who had indeed come looking to hear what the fuss was about) as he did so. Everyone watched him go without a word, not wanting to incite his temper further.

He found himself passing by Sirius' room and going up further; up to the attic.

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The trunk proved to be filled with everything that had been in Sirius' room, plus some other things that Harry hadn't seen, and assumed had been in the trunk to begin with, or hidden away in drawers. All of the posters of Quidditch and half-naked muggle women that had once adorned his walls had been rolled neatly up and stacked right on top. Beneath them were the various devices and prank items that had once littered the dresser, desk and floor, and beneath that were books, and clothing. The books were relatively few in number, and consisted of things Harry might have expected from the man; like a book on interesting potions, and one on long-lasting transfiguration. There was also a ledger, that appeared to be a list of all the pranks and their effects that the Marauders had done while at Hogwarts; who came up with them, how they did them, what happened, whether or not they were caught, and if they were, what punishment they were given as a result.

It was filled with four different sets of writing, each of the marauders having taken turns recording their exploits. This Harry pulled close, along with the other two books, and decided to keep. He wasn't really one for pranking, but the ledger held so much knowledge about the Marauders, and it had sentimental value. The other books might have something helpful in them that he could use at some point, even if not for a prank.

Many of the various devices looked warped or broken, but of the few that were not, he found what looked like, and proved to be, an old telescope, and a little thing that twisted about like a globe without the Earth, and made music. The sounds that came from it sounded like classical music, from pianos and violins, and the like, and, while not really fitting in with most of the other things, was nice. He put these two to the side, leaving most of the others to return to the trunk. He would have left the clothes be entirely, except for the jacket that sat atop them all.

It was soft brown leather, roughened in places, with patches having been sown into the elbows, one shoulder, and a pocket because of all the wear-and-tear. He recognized it, barely recalling a time he had seen Sirius not wearing the thing, and pulled it out of the old trunk gingerly. He smelled it, and choked back a sob. It smelled like wood, and smoke, and sweat, and something unique. It smelled like Sirius. He pressed his face against it and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to fight back the tears.

After several moments, and a great internal debate, he unfolded it gently, and pulled it on. It was big on him, the shoulders a bit too wide, and the sleeves a little too long. The bottom went past his hips, where it had been above Sirius' hips, and he wondered to himself. Had Sirius really been so much bigger than him? He smiled bitterly, and looked down.

"He would have wanted you to have it." He jumped, and found Remus standing in the stairway. The man walked over to him, and plopped down next to him on the floor, a puff of dust raising up as a result. Harry chuckled while the werewolf coughed. The older of the two pulled out his wand and vanished the dust around them. "We never did get around to cleaning the attic." He sighed, and put his wand away. Harry looked away from him, fingering the sleeve of the jacket. "I can spell it for you, so it'll be your size. I'm sure I could even charm it to grow with you."

"No thanks. I like it the way it is." Remus smiled sadly, and nodded, looking towards the other things, and the ledger in Harry's lap.

"I thought he might have kept that." He pointed to the book. "May I?" Harry nodded and handed it over. The man opened it, and leafed through it, smiling. He handed it back after a minute, without a word, and Harry took it. "Those were good years. At least in the beginning."

"Just the beginning?"

"Well no, but they were more carefree then. The war started picking up and becoming more of a problem in our fourth year, so, after that, it wasn't the same. We still had fun, but it was always tempered with worry and what not about Voldemort." Harry nodded.

"I can understand that." Harry looked down, and Remus' smile faded. They were quiet for a few minutes; the silence growing suddenly awkward. Harry bit his lip. "He told you, didn't he?"

"About the potion?" Harry nodded. "Yea. He didn't want to believe it. Not at first."

"Did something... What changed his mind?"

"He asked me to go to Gringotts for him." At Harry's puzzled expression, he elaborated. "There's a tapestry in one of the Black vaults with a self-updating family tree. They used to use it to update the one downstairs. He wanted me to check if your name was on it, and it was." Harry nodded, and a thought occurred to him, making him nervous.

"My mom's name too?" Remus shook his head.

"No. The tapestry is only spelled to show biological relations, and married couples. Lily was married to James, not Sirius, so her name isn't on it." Harry relaxed.

"Did he... Did he say... How..?" Remus shook his head.

"Sirius had no memory of being with your mum. He couldn't recall it. There were a lot of blanks in his memory though, from his time in Azkaban, so there's no way of knowing. I keep trying to think of when it could have happened, but nothing comes to mind. As far as I know they were never alone together, and Lily never seemed like the type to cheat." Harry sighed. At least Remus didn't know about his mother. That was a can of worms he didn't want to have to open just yet.

"I have so many questions, and it just seems like I'm never any closer to answering them, even when I find out more. I just end up with more questions." Remus smiled faintly.

"I know how you feel. I don't understand any of it either, and I knew them all for years." Harry felt a pang of pity for the man, having not previously thought about it from his point of view. Between Pettigrew's betrayal, and this, he probably felt like his whole life was a lie. "Ah well," He groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He looked down at Harry, and clasped a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I may not have all the answers, but if you ever want to ask something about them all I'm here, and I'll try and give you an answer." Harry nodded, and the werewolf left. Harry felt guilty when he realized that he didn't trust the man enough to share his plans with him.

He hoped Remus wouldn't be too angry with him at the end of it all.

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No one commented overly much when they saw Harry wearing the jacket the next day, and he continued to wear it during his stay at the Grimmauld, and put it on over his school uniform and didn't wear a cloak the day they went to leave for the Express. He felt closer to Sirius when wearing it, and less guilty about calling Mr. Weasley his dad. Dumbledore never showed up, though other Order members did, and for that, Harry was very thankful. He didn't imagine that it would be at all easy for him to hold his temper in check in the face of the old man.

He wound up in a compartment alone, and no one came by. He didn't mind overly much, since he knew that Daniel and Luna had other friends in their respective houses, and Blaise, like most other Slytherins, used this time to scope out the current social scene among the snakes. Oddball, who had taken to going nearly everywhere with him while riding on his head, had calmed some over the previous week, and was currently asleep, his tiny snores making Harry's bangs shift around. Metis, on the other hand, was slithering around and around in a circle in excitement.

"_First day of school! First day of school! First day of school!_" He laughed at her.

"_And what could a snake possibly know about school?_" She froze, cocking her head at him. He frowned. Had she gotten bigger?

"_Nothing. But it's exciting, isn't it? Like chasing yummy mice!_" He smirked.

"_I suppose it can be exciting, sometimes. But it's not really meant to be. School is for learning._"

"_OOOOH! Like how to catch mice or dance or bite things?_" He blinked.

"_Sort of, but humans don't do those things. We learn how to use our magic here._" She considered this, nodded, and went up to wrap herself around his upper arm, beneath the jacket where she wouldn't be noticed easily. Yep, she had definitely gotten a bit bigger.

"_Can I eat when we get there?_"

"_Tonight, after the feast, when we are in the tower._"

"_The lion's tower or the hidey tower?_"

"_The lion's tower. We'll be staying there for a week, and then we'll move to the hidey tower._" He received a sleepy hiss in reply, and then soft hissing snores. He raised an eyebrow. What kind of snake snored?

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The sorting and the feast went relatively well, and Harry noted that there was a new potions professor, whereas Severus would be teaching Defense. Good. The man was a ruthless teacher, but that might be just what they needed now. He was glad that Umbridge was gone, though he wondered what had happened to her.

The woman had damn near tried to take over the school the previous year, and had been thwarted only by the headmaster pulling some archaic laws about schools technically being outside the purview of the Ministry. She had been furious about that, but in the end had been forced to back off. All the same, he hadn't been aware of the woman suffering any terrible fate or problem like their previous professors, and there had even been rumors flying at the end of the last year saying that the toad had somehow managed to break the curse on the position.

He hadn't believed that for a moment, and, regardless of whatever had actually happened to her, she was gone now, so it didn't really matter. He didn't pay much mind to the headmaster's speech and avoided looking at him as much as possible. He was still so angry with the old coot for keeping important information from him (nevermind that he was hiding things too) that the last thing he wanted was to have any involvement with him until he could ensure that he wouldn't lose his temper.

The night passed without trouble, and Harry was happy to see his roommates, Seamus and Neville especially, in good health. He settled in, getting Metis and Oddball tucked into his bed, and waited until he was sure all the others were asleep. Then he slipped out of bed and into the castle, leaving behind only Sirius' jacket, as he didn't want to risk leaving it in the forest. He didn't bother with the map this time, relying instead upon his own senses to guide him through the castle undetected.

He was confident in his abilities, but still breathed a sigh of relief once he had successfully slipped outside the castle walls. He headed into his familiar spot in the forest near the lake, the location unchanged except for maybe more leaves and mushrooms growing about the ground from the summer. He left all his clothes but the armor, which he almost never took off these days, knowing that it was likely responsible for him still being alive after the end of the previous school year. He slipped off the rune-covered band last, though he dug a small hole at the base of the old log in the clearing to hide it in, rather than risk leaving it out like his other belongings. He had learned from his encounter with the Wyvern. He had a spare hidden away, but he still wouldn't want to have to go about making another; especially when he didn't actually know what kind of stone it was that Sirius had sent him to use.

The water was a balm on his soul, serving to sooth him in ways that showers, baths, or even the smaller lake near Privet Drive could never quite accomplish. He nearly moaned at the feeling, and the anger he had been holding so close to the surface so long he no longer noticed it was suddenly gone. He likened it to growing one's hair particularly long and then shaving your head. You never noticed the weight until it was no longer there.

He twisted into the seaweed, patting at the Grindylows that still seemed to see him as some great wonder, and stayed in human form rather than change. He wanted to be able to greet the merpeople properly, with words, rather than in the form of a beast incapable of speech. The giant squid was unusually close to the underwater village than was normal, and it waved a huge tentacle at him in 'hello'. He waved back, and the giant creature began drifting away; simply allowing the current of the water to carry it. He passed it by, and smiled as his eyes lit upon the fluorescent stones lining some of the village buildings. The chief's wife was there to meet him first, and she smiled widely at him and pulled him into a cold, yet not, embrace.

"Welcome back, little guardian." He smiled at her as he pulled away, his tail twisting happily and nearly turning him upside-down. She laughed and righted him, keeping a hand on his arm to hold him in place.

"I'm well. How are you and your people?"

"We are fine. The fish have been plentiful this summer." Her smile faded some. "But we grow restless. We sense a coming darkness, and we do not know what it is. There is talk of returning to the sea."

"Because of Voldemort?" Harry frowned.

"Who is this you speak of? A land-dweller? Like you?" He stared at her, open-mouthed, before it occurred to him just how little care the merpeople had for things happening on the surface. If it didn't affect the sea, or wherever they dwelled then they didn't care much for it.

"Yes. He's a surface-dweller. An evil wizard who is creating war on the surface." The merwoman scowled, and grasped his hand.

"Come, we must speak with my egg-partner. You must tell us all you know of this 'Voldemort'." Harry nodded with a furrowed brow, and let the merwoman drag him away.

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Moody has always been one of my favorites, no matter how weird he is. Regarding the alcohol, meh. I was younger than that the first time I my grandma made me a margarita, and whatever she used was a lot stronger than Rumple Minze.

As for him talking to Harry about the different types of magic, I just wanted to start making a clear distinction between types. I've had a couple people comment that Harry's nature doesn't constitute as dark, and, going by canon definitions, that's true. But this isn't canon, and hopefully this clears up any confusion about the nature of things.

Don't really have any other comments to make on this. I realized recently that I spend a lot of my Author's notes giving warnings and asking for forgiveness, as though I would allow the story to be changed based on the opinions of my readers. I think I should stop doing that. This story will only ever be what I want it to be, even if not all of you are okay with everything in it. So I'm done asking for people to keep reading when they don't like everything. Either you will or you won't, so that's that.

Sorry if that came off more insulting than I meant it to, but I just needed to get it out. I hope to receive some positive or helpfully critical reviews on this. See you next week.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	12. Part Two, Chapter Three

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

Christ. Over 400 reviews after only ten chapters and an introduction. That's kind of amazing. Really amazing actually. It's incredible how much you guys are liking this story thus far.

So I wanted to say thank you. Thank you all very very much.

Anyways, this chapter feels like there's a lot happening, but not a lot happening. Don't really know how to explain it. All the same, hope you like it.

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The merpeople, grossly under-informed as they were, were incredibly grateful to him for sharing what he knew; which, as it turns out, came more from his own experiences with Voldemort than anything else. What little he was able to tell them caused great worry, as Harry could only tell them that he didn't know, when asked if Voldemort had any plans regarding the merpeople. He was able to tell them at least, that the Dark Lord likely intended to take control of Hogwarts, and much the rest of the magical world, and that he wasn't sure if that included magical beings aside from witches and wizards.

By the time he left, there was much more talk regarding moving back to the sea, at least for a time, and Harry felt guilty that his first visit with them after so long away would be spent causing them nothing but worry. He returned to the castle later that night unsettled, though with a belly full of fish, and found a note waiting from him from Severus, stating that he was to report to his office on Thursday after dinner.

It seemed that their lessons would be continuing, and Harry found himself both excited and worried about it. He had exchanged letters with the man sparingly over the summer, and while it seemed that their impromptu friendship had not suffered overly much, the potion master had made it very clear that he was displeased with Harry having reacted the way he had regarding his trip to the Ministry, and had told him that they would be having _words_ the next time they spoke in person.

He deserved it, of course, but there was no one quite as capable of ripping a person's self esteem into tiny pieces, then setting them on fire and pissing on the ashes, in the way that Severus could. So, with worry regarding the coming meeting, and the next day of school, Harry fell into fitful sleep.

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His first class on Monday was double potions with the Slytherins, and he was surprised how he almost looked forward to it, when he would have (and had) groaned in despair just a couple years previously. Still, he shifted in with the rest of the class, and found himself in a seat between Blaise and Draco, with Neville on Blaise's other side. He wasn't surprised to find that they were the only Gryffindors on the snake's side of the room, though he was surprised at Neville.

Then again, seeing him smile and mutter something to Blaise, and recall that they had been in the same group in Ancient Studies the previous year, he supposed it might not be so odd after all. He smiled at Draco, but kept silent, none of them yet knowing what kind of teacher Professor Slughorn was, and the blonde gave a weak smile in return. He frowned, noticing then the dark circles beneath Draco's eyes, and worry gnawed at him. He had come to know Draco as being a person who greatly valued appearances; being even more vain than some of the girls he knew, and seeing him clearly not in his best state and in a public setting was like seeing someone come up to you with an ax and blood all over their clothes. It raised far too many red-flags, and Harry eyed him pointedly, but the Slytherin had already looked away; not paying Harry any mind at all and clearly distracted by his thoughts.

Harry might have said something, but the teacher came in then, and class began.

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Harry was later surprised at just how much he had enjoyed potions class. He had been paired with Draco for the remainder of the year, Neville with Blaise, and Slughorn had been inordinately pleased with their show of 'inter-house unity'. Where Severus was overbearing and angry, spiteful and dark, Slughorn was bustling with energy and joy. He was fair, and explained very clearly why each step was important rather than simply expecting them to understand how dangerous potion making could be, the way that Severus did.

It was not lost on Harry that Severus was a better potion-maker, and considered a genius in his field, but the man simply didn't have the temperament for dealing with children and teenagers on a daily basis. He would do much better in a large lab where he was free to brew, experiment, and create to his hearts desire, rather than in a school where his genius was stifled, and Harry wondered if it was resentment for his position that made him so hateful. That, however, then begged the question of why he bothered to stay at Hogwarts when he would be entirely happier elsewhere, and he found himself at a loss. Why did the man stay at the school if he clearly didn't enjoy his job?

He suspected it likely had something to do with Dumbledore's meddling, and, in his consideration and thought on this subject, he completely forgot to talk to Draco after class ended. By the time he became aware of his distraction, the blonde was already long gone on his way to his next class. With a sigh, he promised himself to address it later, and headed off to his Advanced Ancient Studies class. He would have Advanced Ancient Runes afterwards, and the two together more than made up for anything else.

Where the previous year's class had held only eighteen members total (himself included) this class was even more pitiful. There looked to be only twelve of them altogether, Blaise, Neville, Luna, and Daniel among the other students. Only one of the other Slytherins from the previous year remained aside from Blaise, and he now recognized her as being Daphne Greengrass. Only seven of last year's ten Ravenclaws had continued on, one being Luna, and among the others he recognized Terry Boot. He wondered why so few had continued on. The class wasn't terribly difficult, and it was so incredibly fascinating, it was still hard for him to believe that there weren't more students jumping at the chance to attend.

He and the others stood, knowing that Professor Morris would assign seating right away, as he had told them the previous year, and sure enough, as soon as the man came in he started pointing at tables at hollering out names.

"Potter, Zabini, and Reems! Over here!" The table was at the front, and Harry settled in with a grin at Blaise, and a small smile for the Ravenclaw he didn't recognize. He thought though, that she might be a seventh year. She shook his hand while the others were still getting seated.

"Sarah Reems."

"Harry Potter." She smiled politely and confidently, and he was bemused when, as soon as the professor was back at the front of the room and speaking, all of her attention was intensely focused on him. He could make a guess or two as to why she was in Ravenclaw.

They jumped right into the material this year, rather than the previous, when he had given them the first class to get to know each other and chat. They would be working almost exclusively on various forms of ritual and their origins over the next couple months, and, upon learning that a good number of them required rune work, Harry found himself grinning brightly and looking forward to it.

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Advanced Ancient Runes was also a significantly smaller class than the year before, though not so much as Advanced Ancient Studies. Professor Marcel was as bubbly as ever, and the class passed by in a manner reminiscent of the previous year. He was surprised to note that Hermione was among those who had chosen not to continue the class. It came as easily to him as it had until now, despite the fact that it should have been far more difficult than last year's class, and he discovered, not for the first time, that the Professor's attitude was infectious.

After runes was double Herbology, and Harry counted himself lucky to find himself paired off with Neville. He himself was good at caring for non-magical plants, due in no small part to his years of tending Aunt Petunia's garden, but his thumb wasn't nearly so green when tending to things that could bite you or scream, or wiggle. A lot of other students shared his trouble, and it was thus considered a boon to find yourself paired with Neville, who seemed to have dirt running through his very veins. He found himself smiling smugly at some of the envious looks he was currently receiving as a result.

"So you made it into the N.E.W.T. class then?" Neville grinned at him. While N.E.W.T.s wouldn't be until next year, any participation in a class after taking the O.W.L. was just considered a N.E.W.T. class. Harry nodded.

"Yea. Somehow I managed an E." Almost as in response, the little tentacle-like plant they were currently trying to harvest seeds from slapped his hand and he pulled it away with a curse. Neville laughed at him, and he glared, though there was no real heat to it. "I assume you got an O?"

"Yea. Got an O in here, Defense, and Astronomy. Just barely got an A in Potions though." Harry chuckled.

"I suppose that's expected?" Neville grimaced.

"I do fine prep work, Examiner even said it was top notch. I think that's the only reason I didn't get a T after my cauldron exploded. Managed an E in everything else though. How 'bout you? What did you get?"

"Um, O's in Defence, Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, and Charms. E's in Ancient Studies, Transfig, Potions, and Arithmancy, somehow. I managed an A for Astronomy, but I got a P in History, so I don't have to take that anymore. How'd you manage an E in that with Binns teaching?" Neville flushed.

"My Uncle likes history stuff, so he always teaches me over the summers. He makes it interesting, I guess." Harry snorted.

"Don't really see how it could be after Binns. I've taken 'history' to mean 'naptime' ever since first year." Neville snickered.

"You and everyone else, mate." They shared a laugh at that, and quieted down when Professor Sprout sent a sharp look in their direction. The rest of the class passed in careful work, and nice conversation, and Harry was once again reminded at just how much the other teen had changed since first year.

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Harry had Defense against the Dark Arts on Tuesday, and Severus proved to be much the same there as he had in potions class, if a little less foul-tempered than was usual. Their first lesson was mainly review, and they were given a layout of what they would be learning this year. Harry noticed that Hermione, and some of the more studious Slytherins, appeared to be very pleased about that. The man made it clear that he would expect them all to behave maturely this year, saying:

"You are all old enough now that I should not be forced to hold your hand through everything that you do like miserable children. If any of you find you cannot maintain proper classroom decorum, I will remove you, and you will never again step foot into this classroom, whether I am the professor for it next year or not. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry had found himself holding back laughter at the time, though he still wasn't sure what was so funny. Afterwards, the man had asked him to stay behind, and he waited till all the other students were gone before coming up to the man's desk.

"You received my note regarding your lessons?"

"Yes sir."

"I take it you have kept up on your occlusion throughout the summer?

"Yes. It's getting easier. Although..."

"Yes, Harry?" That calmed him. Having Severus call him by his first name meant more than was said, because it was a way that the potion master had of telling him he wasn't angry or upset with him. He had been worried about that, since all of the man's letters during the summer had been addressed 'Mr. Potter'.

"I'm still having difficulty controlling my temper. It seems almost worse than before now."

"Then we will address that on Thursday. If you are doing well enough in the shielding aspects of Occlumency, we can afford to focus on emotional control." Harry nodded. "Aside from that, however, were you planning on continuing the group this year?" He nearly asked 'what group?' but managed to contain himself in time. If there was anything Severus disliked with particular intensity, it was questions he thought were foolish.

"I'm not sure. I would need to contact all the members, and see if anyone wanted to continue, and if they do, then we need to coordinate everyone's schedules." Severus nodded, looking calm, though blank, which, when in a good mood appeared to be his default expression.

"Let me know once you have contacted them. I would like to continue overseeing things. There may not have been any problems last year that you were unable to solve yourself, but that could easily change this year, since you will likely be working on more advanced spells."

"Alright."

"Very well, now then," Harry perked up, at attention. "How are you?" He blinked, and opened his mouth to say 'fine' but stopped.

"I... I'm doing alright. The summer was hard, but it's not as bad now as it was at first. I miss him though." Severus eyed his jacket with a nod. Harry had been wearing it since school began rather than a cloak, and he was rather surprised that no one had said anything to him regarding it, considering that it didn't exactly adhere to the dress code.

"I understand. If you should need me, for any reason, you know my office is open to you." Harry smiled sadly, and agreed. "Very well. You may go, here." The man handed him a note for his next class and waved him away. "Look after yourself Harry."

"You too Severus."

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His first Spellcrafting class came as a double period at the end of Wednesday. It was even smaller than the Advanced Ancient Studies class, and there was no one here who wasn't in the other as well. Neville and Daniel were both absent, and aside from him there were only five other students, all of whom he knew.

Blaise, Daphne, Luna, Terry, and the Reems girl. There was no one else, and he realized once the bell had gone off that he was watching the door, expecting more to come. Professor Morris watched them all in silence, looking far more serious than he usually did, and he gestured them all to a single round table in the center of the room, and surprisingly, sat down with them rather than remain at the front, near his desk.

"Spellcrafting," He began, his usual excitable tone replaced by a more somber one. "is an incredible, and dangerous art. To make a spell yourself, to form and guide magic into conforming to your will, with your own words, and motions, can be both wondrous and terrible. There are spells to heal broken bodies, and spells to cause them, and they were all created by someone. Magic is guided, more than all else, by your intent. You could cast a spell meant to heal, but if you did so with intent to harm, then the effects could be disastrous. Spellcraft is not to be taken lightly, under any circumstances, and while I will teach you how to do it, you are never to attempt the art outside this room unless I deem you ready to do so. If you do, you will be expelled." Harry swallowed. "In this, there are no second chances. Do I make myself clear?" Everyone gave murmurs of agreement, all of them taking his words seriously.

"Now then, as there are so few of us, we will all be working together, or alone, depending on the subject. Before you may begin to make spells, you must learn the theory and method with which it is done. We will learn as a group, and until everyone understands the material, we will not move on. Let us begin, now, by talking about wands; how they are made, how they function, and why the words and motions are needed.

A wand is a conduit, created to conduct magic in the same manner that muggles use metal or water to conduct electricity. Each wand is unique, but all are made of magically conductive materials. Wood, in its' various forms, is an excellent magical conductor, and while you might find it incredibly difficult to do so, it would be entirely possible to use a living tree as a conduit in a similar manner to your wand. Parts from magical animals work as a focus. Where the wood conducts, the core focuses and refines. Much like how a blade is made. The wood is like the hammer which forms the spell, while the core is the stone that sharpens it. Your motions, words, and intent tell the magic what to do once it's conducted and focused, and turn the base magic into a proper spell.

The words have power themselves. Older languages, while not inherently magical, were often influenced by magic in some way, which is why we use them for our casting. Here in Europe, Latin and, to a lesser degree, Greek and Gaelic, are the preferred languages for spells. You will rarely find a spell born from the English language, as it is a relatively newer speech, and is made up of pieces from many other languages and thus a 'watered-down' version of them. If you do ever find an English spell, then you are likely to find that casting the same thing while using the Latin word for it, rather than the English, will make it much stronger. Most of the few English spells we have are healing in nature, since there are often times where a healer needs to produce a weak, but specific action in order to help their patient.

Then comes the wand motions. Each motion of your wand, is a small simplified version of a rune, and stringing them together is like carving those runes into the air, and pushing the magic into them, to give them life. You may find yourself able to complete a spell without the motions, but it will be much harder to do so, and the spell will never be as strong. There are other things you can use to cast spells, rather than a wand, some of which are even more effective, but all still have the same basic principal. Conduct, focus, guide, and create. With a wand, the wood conducts, the core focuses, the intent guides, and the words and motions create; and this is what you will learn how to do here, to create your own spells."

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Finally, Thursday night came around, and Harry wondered, standing outside Severus' office, if it was just in his head that the week seemed to be passing by so slowly. His feelings on the matter were no doubt passed along by how little free time he currently had available until the weekend; the result of which being that he had yet to be able to visit the Keeper's Library. He wanted to start packing up the books as soon as possible, especially since it would give him the opportunity to make a list of them complete with Authors and subject. It would be a tiring task, but would make any future research much easier, since once they were set up in their new home, all he would have to do is search the list and summon the books to him rather than hunt through them one by one. The sound of a clearing throat had him looking up to realise that Severus had opened the door and was looking down at him. Was the man really so tall, or was he even smaller than he had thought? It was odd, he couldn't recall knocking.

"Lost in thought?"

"Something like that." He ducked under the man's arm and into the office, preparing himself mentally for what was to come. "How's your week been so far?"

"Better than usual. It's nice not to have to worry about brats blowing up my classroom. Now I just need to make sure they don't blow each other up. I'm not keen on the thought of having to clean up the mess." He made a disgusted face and Harry laughed.

"No, I don't suppose that would be fun at all."

"Indeed." The man eyed him, amusement gone, and Harry sobered up. "I... For the first time in many years, I find myself at a loss as to what to do." Harry blinked at him, bewildered.

"What do you mean?" The man's expression darkened, looking closer to how he did in the classroom.

"I am, extremely, cross with you, and yet, I am also very relieved. You are lucky that I did not see you before you returned home for the summer, as I may well have cursed you." Harry looked down, familiar shame and guilt crawling up his spine with sharp needle-claws.

"I'm sorry." Severus sighed.

"You should be. You should have come to me, first." Harry glanced up, and then looked back at his feet. "I am beginning to understand you well enough to know that, short of rendering you unconscious, I would not have been able to keep you from going, but if you had come to me, I could have first contacted Grimmauld to ensure that Black was truly absent, and if he had been, I could have gone with you." At this, the teen's eyes snapped up to meet the black ones of the other.

"You... What?" He breathed.

"I could have come with you." He repeated, more slowly. "Unlike you, I have much experience in dueling and fighting, and I am far more aware of Death Eater tactics than yourself. If you had come to me first, we could have devised a proper plan that did not include rushing in like a fool." His voice rose at the end and he glared outright at the teen.

"I... I'm sorry. I'm just so... I'm used to-" He swallowed, finding it difficult to speak.

"Doing things on your own?" Harry nodded, and the man sighed; a deep, world-weary sigh. "I know. As am I. But there are times when it is best to ask for help, and you need to learn the difference between what you can handle on your own and what you can't, or the next time, you will not simply be scarred, you will be dead." Harry sat down, his legs feeling weak, and started when he felt a hand in his hair. Severus rubbed his head, and looked down at him tiredly. "I will teach you to understand the difference, and I expect you to come to me next time. All the same..." He paused. "I am... glad... that you are safe, and alive."

"Thank you." The man nodded, and then cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

"Now then, we have a lesson to get to."

"Yes sir." The potion master settled down in his own chair and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Harry.

"Are you ready?" Harry steeled himself, and nodded. "Very well. _Legimins_."

He was surprised by how easily he could feel the intrusion this time. In the beginning, it had been an intangible thing, and he had been hard-pressed to try and figure out how to fight it, but now, it was like a solid, physical attack, and he shoved at it, pushing it out of his mind. He nearly managed it, and then it pushed harder, Severus not holding back so much and attacking his mind relentlessly. He hissed and shoved at it. When it was clear he was going to fail, he pulled up walls to try and block it, and retreated behind them.

It hit them, over and over like a battering ram slamming against castle doors. He held the walls up, but they were crumbling, slowly and surely, and he knew they would fall. He swallowed, knowing he couldn't stop Severus when the man was giving his all, and wracked his brain for something he could do. An idea came to him, born from the pages of his Occlumency book, and he prepared.

When the walls came down, Severus found himself thrust into a memory of pain; Harry's memory of being under crucio the night of the Triwizard Tournament. He retreated from the teen's mind quickly with a curse. Harry gasped, suddenly back in the real world, and slumped in his chair, shaking; his head pounding violently. Severus was shaking too, and rubbing his temple. The man called sharply for his usual house elf, and a moment later the creature disappeared and reappeared with two potion vials. Severus handed one to Harry, who drank it trustingly and without question; the pain in his head easing immediately, like putting a towel drenched in cool water on a burn. After a minute, the pain had gone down to little more than a dull ache.

"Well done." Severus' voice was rough, and he summoned a glass of water to drink and ease it. Harry felt a rush of pride curl inside of him. "You fought me well, and you knew when to retreat. Your walls are stable, though not as strongly formed as they need to be, and you chose a good tactic when you realized I would break through. We'll need to work on your walls, and next time, I would suggest lining up several memories to use. Try inconsequential ones to start with, like sitting outside and watching the grass, or skygazing, and mix them in with memories like the one you used; memories of pain." Harry nodded.

"Why those kinds of memories?"

"Several inconsequential memories before a one of pain will make any attacker on your mind who's not prepared for it frustrated, which will make them sloppy. When the pattern is suddenly interrupted by a painful one, it will be a shock to the system, and will affect them more strongly than it would if the first memory they touch upon is painful. The more pointless memories before the painful one, the better, as it will make your attacker complacent, whereas they will be expecting an attack first thing after having breached your walls. Ideally, no mental foe should ever make it that far, but having one's mind invaded is never ideal, and you'll want to be prepared for the worst. Once your walls are stronger, we can go over other tactics and defenses, but for now, we start small."

"Alright. Are we going to try again?"

"No. I want you to begin working on your walls now, and you will improve them throughout the week. What did you think of when you began forming them?"

"Castle walls, like Hogwarts." Severus nodded.

"I thought as much. You should think of something stronger. Meditate, and try to come up with something. Over the next week I want you to think of ways to improve your walls, and put them into practice. At our next lesson, you will not throw me out or stop me, and I will look for weaknesses in your design. Then you will improve them again."

"Until they're perfect?"

"There is no such thing as perfect. No matter how strong you make them, an attack of enough magnitude will bring them down. But that sort of attack will take a great deal out of any opponent, which is why, when your walls are complete, we'll do more. If you cannot push them out, they will face your walls, and if they manage to get past them, they will face other defenses."

"But what if they get past those too?"

"As unlikely as it is, I will prepare you for that, as well. What I have in mind will take time, but I think we can have you properly prepared by the end of the year."

"Okay."

"Now then, I'll get Timpy to bring us some food, and then you can go back to your dorm and rest."

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The weekend came without too much trouble, and Harry sighed in relief at that, happy that the first week was finally over. The first two weeks of school were always the hardest, and after that it was easier. Now that the first week was over, he felt much better, if tired. It was night now, on Saturday, and he had long since finished the week's homework. He began gathering his things up, preparing to move to the other tower, and tried to be as quiet as he could, shushing Oddball when the little thing squeaked, and setting the sleeping Metis around his neck so he didn't drop her.

"Harry?" He froze, cursing internally, and turned around to find Neville climbing out of bed and rubbing his eyes. The teen yawned and looked at Harry. "Where are you goin'?" Harry fidgeted.

"I... I'm gonna be sleeping somewhere else now." Neville stared at him, and then whispered.

"Is this that place behind the snake?" Harry swallowed, and nodded hesitantly. "Alright. You want me to cover for you? Me and Seamus could do it together, so no one finds out, if you want."

"Would you?"

"Sure." Neville grinned. "What are friends for?" Harry smiled.

"Thanks, Neville."

"No problem."

There was no more trouble after that, and Neville even helped him with his things, and shrunk his trunk for him, once Harry realized that, while he knew the spell for unshrinking things, he didn't actually know the one for shrinking them. He waved goodbye to the other teen as he slipped out, Oddball on his head, and Neville waved back sleepily while climbing back into his own bed. Harry slipped through the castle, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Norris, and made it up to the seventh floor without trouble.

He felt better once he had made it inside the Keeper's tower, the place serving to remind him of Fred and George's flat and making him feel at home. It was the only place in the castle that felt that way to him anymore. The rest of the castle felt tainted somehow. It was like, in first year, it had been filled with bright colors, and now they were all dull and greying. It wasn't the same, and it never would be. He didn't regret his plans for leaving.

He settled his things into the bedroom, and put Metis', mostly unused, cage on the nightstand alongside his false glasses, and the glamour band. He smiled once it was off, and gathered up the little shrunken trunks that were hidden away inside his own, once he had unshrunken it. Then he was off through the tunnels, walking leisurely. He swam for a bit in the water, the trunks safely ensconced in a waterproof pocket in his jeans. He touched some of the plants, never having looked them up, and then went to the library.

He half-expected to find Frode already there, but the shelves were all together like normal, and there was no sign of the strange portrait. He pulled out the trunks and unshrunk them, alongside a notebook. There were quills in the desk, and he turned to the shelves, and eyed the many many books.

"Well, better get started."

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It was almost two hours later when he left the library, having catalogued and packed away about a hundred or so books, almost filling up one of the trunks. He realized he would likely need to order a few more of those trunks. There were too many books for just four of the trunks, no matter how large they were within. He would need at least double, maybe more. He was exhausted, and left the trunks there to collapse into his bed.

The next couple of weeks passed by in a similar fashion; his classes and Occlumency holding his attention while he spent the weekends packing up the library. He ordered more of the trunks that next Monday after the first weekend, and he was nearly halfway done, keeping only the books he wanted to read in the time being out, and he had worked himself into a groove of sorts that was interrupted one morning during breakfast, when a large eagle owl came and dropped an official looking letter in front of him that nearly landed in his eggs. It had the Ministry seal on it, and he slipped out of the great hall to read it.

He opened it the hallway, once he was sure no one was around, and grinned as he read it. He made a note to visit Severus that afternoon, even though it was Wednesday. He needed to talk to him about the D.A. anyways, since he had finally heard back from the last of them yesterday. He went off to class early, wanting to get through the day as quickly as he could.

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Severus called him in as soon as he knocked, though the man looked surprised when he looked up and saw who it was. The bicorn stomped a foot and chuffed. Harry smiled.

"Are you busy?" The potion master set down the quill in his hand.

"Just grading papers. It can wait a moment." He motioned towards one of the chairs before his desk and Harry sat down. "You do realize our lesson is tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes..." Harry hesitated. "You said to come to you when I needed help." The man sat up straighter, looking serious.

"What is it?"

"I need to go to the Ministry on Saturday, and... I don't want Dumbledore to know." He was risking a bit, being honest like this, but he needed proof he could trust the man without the involvement of oaths or spells or the like. Severus' eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"The headmaster is manipulative. You know that, don't you." The man faltered, the equine making an indecipherable noise. It was hard to tell the emotions of a person through an animal like a horse, or rather, a bicorn. People with dogs were much easier.

"His heart is in the right place."

"Maybe. But it seems to me that he's the sort who looks at the big picture and doesn't think much about all the individuals who get hurt along the way to making the world better." The man's animal stomped, and Harry saw something dark flash across the professor's eyes.

"I suppose, that in this, you are unfortunately correct. It is however, the responsibility of a leader to put the needs of the many above the needs of the few."

"I know that, but I'm still tired of being used."

"I see..." The man sat back in his seat, and eyed Harry. "And I assume this has something to do with _why_ you are going to the Ministry?" The way he phrased it calmed Harry some. Him saying it like it was going to happen, rather than like Harry just wanted it to, was reassuring.

"I have a meeting with a woman from the Department of Children's services, about whether or not I'm mature enough to be allowed emancipation."

"Emancipation? To my knowledge, the only way a minor in the wizarding world can achieve such a thing is if they enter into an apprenticeship or claim a Lordship."

"I've inherited the rights to either the Potter Lordship, or the Black one. The meeting will determine whether or not my application is approved." Severus nodded.

"Would you like a character witness?" Harry's eyes widened.

"If you would be willing, it would help my case." Severus nodded.

"Very well. I needed to go to the Ministry anyways. There are a few rarer potions ingredients I have to order through them because of their volatile nature." Harry grinned. "Though, out of curiosity, which Lordship did you choose to take on?"

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The Department of Children's Services was one of the newest departments in the Ministry of Magic, and was located only three floors down. Where much of the rest of the underground building was old fashioned, or gaudy, the DOCS floor reminded Harry of a muggle hospital, with modern looks, light green walls, and white, tiled flooring. It made Harry nervous, and he looked around himself carefully, and at the people walking through the halls. Severus followed behind him silently, having told him before they had gone through the floo that he was leaving things up to Harry, since, 'if he was going to be an adult, he was going to handle his own business like one'. So, he swallowed down his nerves, took a deep breath, and tried to make himself appear more confident as he went up to the counter.

"Hello, I have an appointment with Mrs. Jerome."

"Turn right at the end, fifth door on the left." The young woman, about Tonks' age, behind the counter didn't even look up from her book as she pointed to Harry's right, her face obscured by the cover and her long dirty blonde hair. Harry turned away from her with slight irritation, annoyed by her rudeness.

His annoyance was thrown off quickly enough as he followed her directions, finding himself at the door to what was likely an office with the name 'Anna Jerome' engraved on it in simple, capitalized letters. He knocked, and a moment later the door was opened.

Anna Jerome was a pretty, dark skinned woman. She was even shorter than him, with huge black curls framing her face and shoulders. She smiled when she saw him, and he was happy to note that she didn't glance up at his scar with her brown eyes even once.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter, if you'd please come in." Her eyes snapped to Severus. "I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you to bring anyone. May I ask who you are?"

"Severus Snape." He had to bend down to shake her hand, the differences in their heights notable. "I am one of Mr. Potter's professors at Hogwarts. I escorted him here, and I would like to remain for the duration, if that is acceptable?" She nodded.

"Anna Jerome, and as long as you don't mind answering a few questions, then I don't mind if you stay." The man nodded, and she ushered them both in. Her office was painted blue, with black leather chairs, and a dark desk. There were no personal items, and Harry wondered if she was really so professional, or just new. They all sat down, the chairs comfy, and the woman pulled a notepad and pen out before speaking. "So, I have a few questions I have to ask you, Mr. Potter. You will need to be honest with me. Is that clear?" Her tone was kind, but no-nonsense, and he nodded. "Alright then, how often do you eat?" He blinked.

"Wha?"

"Just answer me. These questions are mandatory."

"Um, I eat three times a day, usually. Sometimes I skip breakfast." She nodded and started writing on her pad of paper.

"When do you go to sleep?"

"Uh, around eleven, mostly, every once in awhile I stay up later, but only if I can't sleep."

"What keeps you up?"

"Nightmares. I don't get them as often as I used to."

"What are they about?"

"M- My godfather mostly." His mouth snapped shut. He hadn't meant to say that!

"Where do you live during the summer?"

"With my Aunt and Uncle, and my cousin."

"How are they related to you?"

"Aunt Petunia was my mother's sister." She nodded.

"Are you happy there?"

"Mostly."

"Are they nice to you?"

"Yes."

"I understand your parents were wealthy?" He blinked, the change in subject odd to him.

"I- Um, yes."

"Are you aware of any money or property you may have inherited?"

"Yes." He almost gasped. He hadn't meant to tell her that either.

"Do you own any property that you feel would be adequate living space for you?"

"Yes."

"Do you have a plan for your future, career-wise?"

"I want to be a runemaster." She smiled.

"What made you decide on that as your career?"

"I'm good at working with runes. I like them." She nodded, making one last note on her pad of paper and pulling her muggle pen away with a scratch.

"Alright, I'm done. If you could please wait outside for a moment, so I can speak with your professor?"

"A- Alright." He felt something as he passed through the door, like a bubble popping against his skin and he stiffened. He had never felt that sort of thing before, but he knew about the effect from a book. It was, supposedly, the feeling of a compulsion charm being removed, and he understood now. Jerome's office was, apparently, laced with truth compulsion spells. He moved to lean against the wall opposite her office. He couldn't bring himself to be mad at her though. She had a job to do, after all.

He shifted from foot to foot, but after several minutes just sat down on the floor. He sighed, and began playing with the edge of Sirius' jacket. He eventually devolved to patting out a beat on his legs and humming, when the office door finally opened. He stood up, and Mrs. Jerome smiled at him.

"You can come back in now." He followed her in warily, focusing on his magic this time, and noticed as the compulsion washed over him. It was a subtle feeling, and he gave the woman a pointed look as he sat back down, which she only smiled at; her eyes knowing. She pulled out a paper from her desk and began writing on it, the wide movement of her hand suggesting a signature. Immediately, the parchment popped, duplicating itself so that there were now three copies, and the second two folded themselves into paper planes and zoomed up, shimmying through the crack at the top of the door and disappearing. She rolled up the last paper, and put it in her desk with a smile.

"Welcome to adulthood, Lord Black."

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So I know at first glance that Ms. Jerome's questions don't seem very important, but they are. I actually asked my girlfriend's mom (who's a retired social worker) what kind of questions she might have asked, and these were the kinds of ones that came up.

That's kind of the only comment I have to make on the chapter at the moment, so see you all next week.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	13. Part Two, Chapter Four

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

Speaking of reviews, the average per chapter is 40 now. I wonder if I'll actually manage to get over 1k by the end…

So I didn't wait a whole week between updates this time. Consider it a consequence of my good mood from finishing writing Part Three. I'm starting to work on Part Four now, so hopefully that will go well!

Now, on to the chapter!

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Harry smiled to himself as he worked on his potion. He was in class now, it being Monday, and, though he hadn't really understood why Mrs. Jerome had asked him the questions that she had, all had gone well. Severus had told him that she had asked the things she did so as to ensure that he was not only capable of taking care of himself, but also so that she could ensure he wasn't trying to become emancipated because of some problem at home; though the questions had seemed too simple to Harry to actually accomplish this. She had asked the potion master much more detailed questions regarding the same subjects, along with Harry's performance in school, and, while Harry didn't know what the man had said to her, his answers had left her satisfied enough to sign off on his request.

Now, the papers were being filed with other departments in the Ministry, and when that was done, if he was fully approved, they would send confirmation to the goblins, who would, in turn, contact Harry. Then he would need to go to Gringotts, and meet with Grimrok, and he would have to sign a few more papers before they would present him with his Lordship ring. After that, he would be free. He was nervous of course, worried that something would happen before the process was complete; that Dumbledore would catch wind of it, or even the Minister, and try and stop things.

Even if they did, he would still be free after he turned seventeen, he would just rather have his freedom before that; since it would give him more time to prepare. His plans had, thus far, only extended into completing this year at Hogwarts, getting emancipated, and moving to the castle in Russia; but he was still at a loss for what to do beyond that. Where would he go to school? What would he study? How would he learn to fight? How would he face Voldemort? Would he even survive that confrontation?

He pushed those thoughts aside and tried to firmly keep smiling. No matter what else happened, this was a victory; a small one, but still a victory. He wanted to enjoy it, even if things all fell apart later.

"Excellent work! You're doing very well, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." Slughorn smiled brightly at them and moved on, and Harry felt proud of himself. It was true that Draco was better than him at potions, but he had done his fair share of work, and their calming drought was the exact color and consistency that the book stated it was meant to be at this stage. He grinned at the blonde, but the pureblood didn't even glance up from his work, and that brought another problem to Harry's attention.

Something was wrong with Draco; something was truly wrong. He looked terrible for one, and though he attempted to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, he failed, and Harry knew he was not the only one to notice. It wasn't an act either, since the grey kneazle that represented the fair teen usually walked around at his side tall and proud, and lately simply slunk around behind him occasionally giving out pitiful mewls.

They worked on their potion the rest of class in silence, and when the bell rang and everyone began gathering their things, Harry made his decision. Blaise and Draco tended to walk together, and the dark teen was always ready to go very quickly. When he made to wait, Harry waved him off behind Draco's back. The other looked from him to the blonde and then nodded, and left with the other snakes. When Draco looked up, he seemed almost startled at the fact that he was the only Slytherin left in the room, and then his eyes met Harry's.

"We need to talk." The Malfoy heir swallowed thickly, and nodded, and Harry led him out of the room with a hand on his arm; prepared to grab onto him if the other tried to get away. Draco was not known for willingly speaking of his problems. He led the other into an empty hallway, and then into a larger alcove he had found last year by accident that was behind a large patterned tapestry. Draco slumped against the stone wall, the darkened alcove serving to make the shadows beneath his eyes more pronounced. He was not even trying anymore to pretend he was alright, and Harry took it as a relatively good sign. "What's going on?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Draco's voice was careful and measured, but unconvincing, and Harry knew he wouldn't need much to get the other to spill.

"Bollocks. You look like hell. You have since the year started. Something is wrong, and I want to know what it is."

"Why? What the hell do you care for?" He snapped, his eyes sharp as blades, and Harry glared at him.

"Maybe because you're my friend, and I don't care to see you like this. You're worrying me, Draco." His voice softened near the end, and he watched the other teen slump his shoulders as all the breath seemed to go out of him.

"I... I can't tell you."

"Why not?" Grey eyes looked up at him, and he could see the desperation in them.

"Harry. I. CAN'T. Tell you." Harry stared at him, and thought, and then something occurred to him. Not being able to talk about something wasn't the same as not being _willing_ to talk about it.

"Did someone put a spell on you? To keep you from talking?" Draco said nothing, but looked down again, and Harry nodded. That was answer enough for him. "Come on, we need to talk to Severus." The other teen looked up in a panic.

"NO! I can't! He's a death eater! He-"

"Draco." The blonde teen stopped, and Harry knew he could risk this. "I trust him." They stared at each other, and grey eyes widened. The bell rang again, and they both jumped. Harry chuckled nervously, and the Malfoy heir seemed to calm.

"Alright." Draco's voice was raspy, and he shook, but he nodded, and Harry led him away, into the dungeons.

Harry knew that Severus would be teaching right now, and the man would not be happy with him for interrupting, but this was important, and Harry was of the mind that it could not wait. So they walked quickly, and without speaking, until they stopped before the door to Severus' classroom; only a few doors down from the old potions class. He could hear the deep baritone of the man's voice muffled from the other side as he lectured, and he swallowed. He and Draco looked at each other one last time, and nodded simultaneously. Then Harry knocked, and the voice on the other side stopped. Sharp footsteps sounded out, and then the door slammed open, both of them taking several steps back so as not to be hit, and Severus stood before them. The man glared down at them with dark eyes and great anger that was tempered only slightly when he realized who, exactly, the two students were.

"What, precisely, is the meaning of this?" His voice was low, and carefully controlled, and Harry winced. The man was so close to losing his temper.

"We need to speak with you." He was proud of himself; his voice wasn't shaking. "It's urgent."

"Urgent enough that it could not possibly wait?" Harry nodded, and the professor's dark glare faltered slightly. He stared them down, looming over them in a way that made both teens feel very very small; and which only Severus seemed able to do. "Very well." He slammed the door shut, and they heard his voice ring out sharply in the room beyond. Then the door opened again and he came out, immediately heading in the direction of his office, and the two of them scrambled to follow him; both having to take many more steps than their elder in order to keep up; even Draco, who was noticeably taller than Harry. The man stopped only to whisper the password and then enter the room. They followed after him, the door closing behind them of its' own accord, and Harry relaxed some in the familiar environment despite Severus' foul temper. "Now then, which of you would like to explain to me, exactly, what is so important that it required you to interrupt my teachings?" His glare wasn't so foul as it had been at first, and Draco looked at the floor while Harry came forward.

"I... I'd been noticing lately that something was wrong with Draco, so I tried to question him."

"And?"

"He couldn't tell me anything, sir. I think someone's spelled him quiet. But it seems to be important, and..." He paused, looking over at the grey-eyed teen. "I think it may have something to do with Voldemort. The way the other teen flinched violently attested to that, since he was generally one of the few that seemed unfazed when hearing Harry say that name. Severus watched them both, and then sighed, his anger seeming to dissipate some.

"Draco, come here." The blonde did so hesitantly, and looked afraid when Severus pulled out his wand. He jerked and closed his eyes when the man cast a spell Harry had never heard before, but seemed unharmed afterwards, though he lit up like a Christmas tree. Glowing bands of green, blue, and a sickly yellow twisted around his neck and chest, almost like several nooses with the extra rope tied around his torso. Severus' eyed the bands distastefully, and scowled, and though Harry felt very little when looking at the green and blue, the yellow bands made him feel ill. He didn't need to be told to understand that something was very wrong with those. Draco was shaking slightly, though he was still calmer than before, now that he seemed to understand the spell the potion master cast was not to harm him.

Severus' loyalty to Voldemort was not something Harry and he had ever discussed outright, but Harry knew the man was the epitome of all that was Slytherin. He doubted that he held any true loyalty to the Dark Lord, especially considering all that the man had done to help him. That said, it was better to have a hand in every game of cards, because you could never be sure which hand would win. If Harry had learned nothing else from Blaise, he had learned that all Slytherins thought of themselves and their loved ones above all else, and if protecting them and theirs meant siding with a madman, then they would do what they had to. Harry didn't know if Severus had any family, but the concern he looked at Draco with was proof there were those he cared for.

The man in question began waving his wand about in complicated patterns and muttering. Harry leaned against the wall and watched. His sensitive ears picked up every third word or so, none of which were in English, and he contented himself with the thought that Severus clearly knew what he was doing.

Unbidden, thoughts of his third year creeped back into his mind. Severus had despised him then, fully and truly, and yet, the man had he and Hermione behind him and faced down a werewolf to protect them; made even more impressive when Harry knew the man feared nothing more. He had risked his life to defend two students he didn't care for, and Harry suspected the man's near-cruel demeanor in class had more to do with getting them to listen in order to prevent accidents, which, in subjects like Potions or Defence, could be fatal. If the man would do so much for people that meant nothing to him, just how far was he willing to go for those he loved?

Harry watched the sour man more closely, more than the wild casting of his spells. Determination was etched into his face as though it had been carved there, and there was a fire in his dark eyes that Harry was startled to realize he recognized. Startled because, it was something he had seen in himself once; all the way back in first year. He recalled it from looking in the mirror of Erised, and getting the stone. He remembered thinking then, that more than anything, he wanted the stone, so that Voldemort couldn't have it. He remembered being willing to do anything to protect his friends, and to keep the Dark Lord who killed his parents from winning. Thoughtlessly, a small smile came to his face then.

No. There was no way in the darkest, flaming pits of hell that Severus was loyal to Voldemort.

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They ended up spending the rest of the day in Severus' office; the man casting spells on Draco in close succession nearly all that time. He had stopped only twice. Once to send off three letters that would mark the cancellation of Defense class for the rest of the day, as well as excuse Harry and Draco from their own classes. Harry had nearly expected the headmaster to show up after that, but he hadn't. The second time had been to get some water, and though there were no windows in the dungeons, Harry suspected it had grown dark outside.

The man was tiring now, sweat dripping from his brow, and Harry knew he would have to stop soon. He had done well, besides. Draco still glowed, sitting in a chair now, but not as he had before. The Blue ropes had been the first to go. They had snapped and shattered apart like broken glass. Then the green had unraveled, like torn rope, little by little until it had unwound entirely. Now, only the sickly yellow remained, though it had begun to flicker some time ago, as though it was dying out and using every last bit of its' energy to fight its' demise. Draco had stopped shaking long ago, and now his eyes drooped, as though it were taking all he had to stay awake. Harry himself had stopped standing hours ago, and though he still leaned against the wall, it was now from his position of sitting on the stone floor.

All of a sudden, the yellow ropes glowed brightly, brighter than they had at the beginning, and Harry sat straighter. Draco opened his eyes widely and watched it, fear now on his face, as he didn't know what was happening. Harry looked to Severus, and his own worry calmed when he saw the slight smile and victorious expression there. The yellow ropes seemed to explode, though it caused no harm to the blonde, and fell to the ground like sand; vanishing before they even touched the floor. Draco slumped over, his eyes rolling back in his head, and Severus stopped him before he fell to the floor, and gathered him up into his arms with ease.

He carried the blonde through the door at the side of the office that lead into his quarters, and Harry followed them. The blonde teen looked so small, like a sleeping child, in Severus' arms. The man took Draco through the door to his room, and Harry settled onto the familiar couch, watching through the open doorway as the professor put the unconscious teen in his bed and covered him. The professor sighed once he had come out, and closed the door behind him, leaning against it with a weary sigh.

"Is he gonna be alright?"

"_Going to_, Harry, and yes, he needs only to rest now. He should be well enough, come morning." Harry nodded, and the man moved from sight, into the kitchen. Harry expected him to return with tea, but the man came back carrying a bottle and two glasses. He was surprised at that, recognizing alcohol when he saw it. He might have expected the man to need a drink himself, but the second glass implied that some was for Harry too. This proved a correct assumption, when the man poured some liquid into both glasses and handed one to Harry. It was a light color, a pale green or cream maybe, rather than the auburn of firewhisky, or the clear water-like countenance of the Rumple Minze Harry had shared with Moody. Harry took it carefully, and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled, and he took a sip, hoping it didn't taste as bitter as its' smell suggested. The actual taste was something like a cross between bitter and sweet that Harry wasn't all too sure what to think of, and he decided that, while he might finish the glass, he wouldn't ask for more.

What was with older men giving him drinks these days?

"What is this?"

"Moscato. White wine. It takes getting used to, I suppose. Lily was fond of it."

"Was she?"

"Indeed. She wasn't particularly a fan of alcohol, and I recall it was one of those few such beverages she would drink." Harry hummed and continued to sip at it, opting to give it more of a chance.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Harry. Though, I feel it is _I _who should be thanking _you_." Harry looked up, surprised.

"Why?" Severus looked carefully at him, his face relaxed and calm, though without that neutral mask the man tended to put on. The bicorn lay by the side of the couch, looking tired, but not unhappy.

"Because you have been listening to me." The teen's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "I asked you, to come to me when something important arose, so that I could help you, and you have done so. First with your need to go to the Ministry, and now with this. You have not come to me with petty issues, and when you do come, you are honest. I am glad, especially, for your bringing Draco to me. I knew that something was wrong, though I thought it was not so serious, and I have been too busy to think much on it before now."

"Was I right then? Do you think it has to do with Voldemort?" Severus nodded.

"The Dark Lord's magic is tainted by all that he has done, and very unique as a result. I could feel it when I dismantled his spells. It is likely that he has tasked Draco with something, and cursed him to ensure his secrecy. Now that I am aware of it, and have removed the binds, I shall be able to question Draco on the matter."

"That will help us, won't it?" Severus sighed.

"I do not know. If the Dark Lord has given some secret mission to Draco, knowing it may help, but not in the way you believe. It is possible that whatever has been set in motion cannot be stopped, and our only course of action will be to help Draco, and ensure that he, and anyone else involved, simply come out as unscathed as possible."

"So we might not be able to stop whatever his plan is?" Severus nodded.

"Sometimes, the best path is not to fight evil, but simply do what we can to prevent loss of life by its' hands." Harry looked down, and drank some of his wine. "Where do you sleep, Harry?" Harry looked up, startled, and nearly dropped his glass.

"I- Wha-"

"Do not bother lying to me. For all that we pit ourselves against one another in our mutual desires for the House Cup, Minerva and I are friends behind closed doors. Did you not consider there might be spells and wards on the dormitories to ensure their occupants remain dwelling there?" Harry paled, and swallowed guiltily.

"But, if she knew..." He hesitated.

"Why did she not say anything to you?" Harry nodded. "Because you appeared well. The wards said nothing of you leaving the grounds, so she knew you were in the castle, and you appear well-rested each morning. You eat your meals, and you are doing better than usual in your classes this year. She is worried, yes, but you are doing fine, so there has been little cause for any great concern. She decided she would leave you be on the matter unless you started to show that something was wrong. I however, am not so keen to sit back and allow this behavior." Harry fidgeted and set his glass on the table.

"I... You know I leave the castle sometimes. To go to the lake, and sometimes the forest." Severus' eyes narrowed.

"The forest? I was aware of your trips to the lake, but not the forest. For what purpose would you go there?" His face grew stern.

"To hunt."

"Hunt?" Harry nodded.

"Yes. Deer, and rabbits, and the like. Sometimes I need to. It... It's calming. Not the same way as the lake. It sort of..." He bit his lip, trying to think of a way to explain. His eyes fell on the wine. "Like alcohol! You drink some to take the edge off when you're stressed, don't you?" The man nodded slowly. "That's sort of what hunting does for me, in my animagus form." Severus sighed, and nodded, seeming to accept the answer, at least for the time being.

"And what, precisely, does this have to do with where you sleep? Unless you are sleeping in the forest?" Harry shook his head.

"No. The twins showed me a room, on the seventh floor. They found it by accident. It's a secret. There's a living room there, and a bedroom attached. It has a trapdoor in the back that leads into a tunnel that goes all the way out to the forest, near the lake. It's safe, because no one can use the tunnel unless they've slept in the room, and I think it wears off after a while, like if you haven't slept there in a few months, or it resets every year. I couldn't go through this year until after I had stayed in the room again, and since the twins have been gone for so long, I'm the only one who can use it right now. It just makes it easier to get in and out, and this way I don't have to wear the glamours while I sleep." Severus stared at him for several minutes, and then nodded.

"Very well. I will allow this, but in the future, I will expect you to inform me of these things. Is that clear?" Harry nodded. "Is there anything else you feel I should know, while we're at it?" The man's gaze was sharp, and Harry considered it. He thought of the other tunnels, the heart of the castle, and the Keeper's library, but decided against sharing that. Something in him told him that no one else should know of that place, and it would be filled entirely with water in a few years besides. Then he thought of the castle in Russia.

"I'm leaving at the end of the year." He looked down, not meeting the other man's eyes. "It's part of why I needed the emancipation, so that I can leave, legally. I'm tired of being a pawn on the headmaster's chessboard. I want to fight Voldemort, but I want to do it on my own terms, and in my own way, and on my own time; if I'm able." He looked back up then, green eyes blazing, daring the professor with his gaze to speak against his wishes, but the man only nodded.

"I had figured as much. Will I be able to contact you, where you are going?" Harry blinked.

"You don't want to know where?" He shook his head.

"It would be safer for you if you told no one. No matter how great I am at occlusion, there are still ways to pry information from a person. Without having taken an antidote, there is no way around veritaserum, and everyone breaks eventually when under torture. Have you told anyone?" Harry shook his head.

"You're the only one besides Fred and George who even knows that I'm leaving." Severus nodded.

"Keep it that way if you can." Harry nodded.

"Yes sir."

"Now, as to my original question...?"

"I... I'm not sure. I'll need to look into it. Most likely, I'll contact you first, and let you know how to reach me if you need to."

"Very well. The place you are going is safe? Secure?" Harry recalled the extensive list of wards he had been given when asking Grimrok for more information regarding the unplottable castle. Some of them were quite nasty, passed down from paranoid Black Lord to even more paranoid Black Lord and there were more offensive based ones than defensive.

"It's armed to the teeth." Severus smirked, amused.

"Did you intend to bring anyone with you?" Harry blinked.

"Why would I?"

"If the place you are going is truly secure, and large enough, there are those who could benefit from going with you. Some of my snakes even. Those whose parents cannot escape servitude to the Dark Lord, yet do not wish their children to be bound under the same fate, or even those who you simply wish to protect. The Dark Lord is on the move, Harry, and it is only a matter of time before there is very little left outside his reach." Harry nodded, and leaned back in the couch.

"I... I'll consider it." Severus nodded.

"That's all I ask."

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Harry found himself sleeping on the couch in Severus' quarters that night, the man doing the same, though on a transfigured sofa in his office. He curled up beneath the familiar blue blanket, warm, if slightly uncomfortable wearing the glamour band while sleeping. He stared at the fireplace while on his way to dreaming, and, for the first time, wondered why the potion master had a fireplace in his office and here. Wouldn't just one suffice? He knew the one in the office was connected to the floo, so was this one just for comfort? He found himself dozing to these thoughts, and then lost them all to his dreams, none of which he recalled once he had awoken.

When he did wake, feeling rested, he wondered how Severus kept track of the hours. The only windows in the dungeons were the ones in the Slytherin common room that looked into the lake; far enough near the bottom that little light reached them there. Thus, there was no sunlight, or way to distinguish day from night, and Severus kept no clocks in his rooms. Did he just cast tempus all the time? The thought seemed so tiring. He pushed his considerations aside with a sigh, sitting up and making a note to just ask the man all his inane questions one of these days, even though it would be likely to irritate him.

He mumbled to himself indecipherably, too tired to even know what he was saying himself, and stood up. He stretched, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that Severus had cold water stashed somewhere to calm his thirst, and that he wouldn't mind Harry digging about in his kitchen too much. He froze in the doorway however, once he realized the room was already occupied.

Draco sat at the table, a glass of what looked like juice clasped between both hands on the tabletop, and staring into it with tired, stressed eyes that made him look so very old in comparison to how Harry had perceived him the night before when the professor was carrying him to bed. He didn't look up at Harry, though the Gryffindor knew somehow that the other was aware of his presence. The jug of juice was still on the counter, and Harry put things off to walk over and pour himself a glass; his footsteps seeming louder on the stone floor than they actually were.

It was not the first time Harry had noticed the dead silence of the dungeons, so different from anywhere else night or day, even the rest of the castle. In Surrey, there was always noise. Typical neighborhood sounds like various animals, some stray and some not, the cars a couple streets over, where the main road was, and the snores of the various members of the Dursley family as they slept. In the daytime, the noise was even worse, including now the various neighbors going about their days and talking to one another, and the children who played in the cul de sac. At the Burrow, or even Grimmauld, the very buildings moaned and groaned and creaked almost constantly, daytime or night. The Burrow, on top of it, was always filled with people, none of whom, save maybe Percy, were known for being quiet. At Grimmauld, the people at least tried to be quiet, because if they didn't then they would have to deal with Mrs. Black's shrieking. The rest of Hogwarts had its' own noises. Even at night, there were still the portraits, and the suits of armor, the house-elves, the weather, those on patrol, and any students who happened to sneak out. The forest, and the lake, too, had their own sounds.

Yet here, in the dungeon, it was silent. Harry daydreamed a moment, wondering if the lower levels of the castle had ever been used as actual dungeons for the keeping of prisoners, and determined that it was likely, given the age of the place. Had the dungeons been as deathly quiet then, too? He imagined that the silence would have driven any prisoner out of his right mind long before any true punishment or torture were enacted upon them.

He sipped at his juice, considering his morbid thoughts in further detail as he joined the Malfoy heir at the table without a word from either of them. Would he have lost his mind, trapped, day after day in utter silence? With nothing but his own thoughts and the noise of his own breath and beating heart to keep him company? He thought he might. He liked the silence, true enough, and solitude was no stranger to him, but he would never wish for such a state in consistency. He needed other people, and sound, at least some of the time, or he would go mad.

What was it like, he thought, to lose your mind? The muggles spoke of how a crazy man didn't know he was crazy, so would he even notice as his sanity fled him? Or would he know every second that it slipped away in crucial agony until it was finally gone? Would it hurt, to go mad? Or would it feel pleasant, like all your troubles were leaving you alongside your mind? His thoughts came to a stuttering halt as Draco coughed, and they were interrupted. He watched the blonde, waiting, and, after a few seconds, the teen's grey eyes lifted to meet his own.

"I've been ordered to kill Dumbledore." The words seemed to fall out of the teens mouth almost without his permission, slamming down upon the air between them like every word was a heavy stone, and he looked nearly as startled at having spoke as Harry did at the actual words. He felt his good mood slip away without so much as a by-your-leave, and groaned.

Why did his life just have to get more and more complicated?

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The rest of the week passed on in relative ease, though with no word from the goblins. Severus, Harry, and Draco had discussed the blonde's orders in more detail. They had learned, that, on top of being given the task of being the headmaster's executioner, Draco had also been ordered to find a way to get the death eaters into the castle by the end of the year, and the teen believed he had already found a way with which to do so.

Harry may greatly dislike the meddling old goat, but not so much that he wished for his death. Still, giving the task of killing a powerful (possibly the most powerful in all of Europe) wizard with over a hundred years of experience beneath his belt to a (by comparison) unskilled teenager seemed entirely too unreasonable to Harry, even when coming from Voldemort. When questioning this aloud to Draco, the Malfoy heir effectively threw a wrench in any half-formed plans in the Gryffindor's head once he had revealed why.

He had been given the order, that even Voldemort realized was nigh-impossible, as a punishment for his father's failure to bring Harry and the prophecy to the Dark Lord. The Lord Malfoy was currently a guest in one of the (apparently numerous) cells the man had, and would be killed if Draco failed at either of his tasks. Harry found himself willing to kill the headmaster himself before he allowed that to happen.

He had told no one of what Lucius Malfoy had done for he and the others that night at the Ministry of Magic, and only those who had been present at the time (and bound to silence) were at all aware of it. If not for his help, they may all well have died, and now, as a result for what he'd done for them, the man sat rotting in a cell and possibly, likely even, under torture. Harry felt sick at the thought. He owed a debt to Lucius Malfoy, no matter how unpleasant he had always found him to be beforehand, and he would pay it, no matter what it cost.

Voldemort would not be satisfied that Draco had succeeded until he could see Dumbledore's cold corpse at his feet. Having the man simply disappear, or making him drink the draught of living death, would not work, as the Dark Lord would see through both easily. They couldn't even go to the headmaster himself for advice, as it may mean contacting the Ministry, and they wouldn't listen to anything beyond being told that Draco was in the service of the Dark Lord. He would be locked away in Azkaban, and there would be no help for him or his father then. If the Ministry wasn't contacted, then the old man might try to tempt Draco into a life of spying, and if Severus' dark look when the matter came up was any indication, he would carve out the old man's heart with a muggle knife before he would ever allow it.

So they couldn't tell Dumbledore, which also left out the Order, especially not the Ministry, and they couldn't tell anyone associated with the Death Eaters, since they had no way to know where anyone's true loyalties lay, and, regarding those they knew were not loyal, the information could still get out; whether by human error, potions, legilimency, or torture. They had no one they could properly turn to, to keep Draco, and his family, safe. Harry considered the thought of spiriting the Malfoys away to Russia with him, but then there was still the problem of getting Lucius free first. Harry could give them a place to hide, yes, but they would have to get to them first.

He found his head aching by the time they had chosen to push the topic aside for more thought, and he hated how much he had come to learn. There was a time, when nothing beyond the surface seemed to matter, and he would have rushed in at the problem head-on like a true, and foolish, Gryffindor. If he had learned Draco was working for Voldemort back then, and meant to kill the headmaster, he would have contacted the Aurors immediately, and Draco would have gone to jail, Lucius would have been killed, and Merlin only knows what would have become of the Lady Malfoy. Now though, forced to look beyond the surface, the world was not so cut and dry; black and white. He almost longed for the days when everything appeared simpler to him, yet at the same moment he was glad to have them long gone. Ignorance might be bliss, but you lost more than you realized that way, and it was only the fact you didn't know about it that kept you sane and not hating yourself.

He tried his best to shove such thoughts aside, and focus on the books; back to packing them up and listing them as he was this weekend. He held back a smile, not nearly so surprised as he should be, when a voice rang out through the slightly musty air.

"You look particularly more troubled than is usual for you." He looked up, finding the same set of bookshelves pushed apart from one another, and Frode, looking down kindly from his frame and stroking his pointed beard.

"I guess that's because this is more troubling than my usual problems."

"Oh?" Harry nodded, setting the book he had been holding, an old red thing on the subject of Alchemy, down on top of one of the closed trunks sitting near him in his place on the floor.

"My friend, has been ordered to kill a man, and his failure will mean the death of his father, whom I owe a debt to, and no one 'sides me, him, and Severus knows, or can be told." Frode blinked.

"Yes, I suppose that is more troubling than usual." Harry barked out a bitter laugh. "Might I ask, who is Severus? I can't recall if you have mentioned him previously."

"He's one of my professors, and someone I trust with my life." Frode hummed.

"A mentor, then?"

"Something like that."

"I see, and why can you tell no other?"

"If we tell the Ministry, they'll lock him up, if we tell Dumbledore, he'll tell the Ministry or turn Draco into a spy, the Order works for Dumbledore, the Death Eaters work for the man who gave the order, and there's no one left who we trust." The portrait looked downwards, deep in thought.

"Hmm... Quite the predicament, it sounds like."Harry watched the man think for a while, and lost himself in his own thoughts on the subject until the portrait spoke again. "This man, he is the same one you call Voldemort, yes?" The teen nodded. "He holds your friend's father hostage?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Well, yes. Draco hasn't heard from his father since summer, and Voldemort told him-"

"This man, has he, until now, been valuable to Voldemort?" Harry blinked, somewhat annoyed by the interruption.

"Yes..." Frode nodded.

"And this man, your friend's father, he angered Voldemort in some way?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"He... failed, at a mission Voldemort gave him." Frode nodded.

"It is, in my experience, rather uncommon for a commander, no matter his nature, to cast aside a good soldier for angering him, or making some solitary mistake. Aside from that, it was this Dark wizard, whom, I would imagine, is not known for his trustworthiness, who shared his plan to kill the young man's father, and the keeping hostage of him, is it not?" Harry felt a light bulb flicker in his head, but not quite light up.

"Do you mean to say, you don't believe that Voldemort would Kill Malfoy? Or that he has him?" Frode shrugged.

"I could not rightly tell you. Still, it seems a fine tactic to me, to send the man off on some task, where he cannot be reached, and lie to the son about his whereabouts, in order to ensure some other task is done, or some goal is met. Are you certain your friend had tried every way he can to contact his father?"

"I... He's tried owling him, lots of times, and whenever he contacts his home through the floo they say he isn't home. I think he's owled other people too, but no one appears to have heard from the man."

"I see... Has he tried a house-elf?" Harry stared.

"A house-elf?"

"Yes. Homely creatures they are, with their own strange brand of magic. A house-elf can, no matter the circumstance, find anyone, anywhere, no matter the state or location. There are wards to keep them out, of course, but such things were hardly ever used in my own time, and likely not at all in today's world. People rarely think twice of the little creatures." Harry stared open-mouthed. "They can apparate people, as well, though not over very long distances. I imagine, if there are no wards to stop such a creature wherein the man is, it might not be too difficult at all to retrieve him."

"Frode..." Harry breathed. "You're a genius." This time, it was the boy who disappeared first, running off at inhuman pace, with great need to find Draco, and the portrait watched him go with amusement, and triumph.

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Harry rushed through the castle, heading towards the dungeons with single-mindedness. It was night now, but not yet past curfew, so he hoped that Draco would be in the Slytherin common room, or at least awake. Then, he paused, hesitating, and nearly fell down the steps he was currently on as his steps faltered. He reconsidered going to Draco. What if it didn't work? Then he would only be getting the blonde's hopes up, and, if it failed, crushing them.

He stood there on the stairs, suddenly uncertain what to do, and considered his options. The Malfoys kept house-elves, he knew that, so getting one of them would be easiest, but that would require going to Draco. The Hogwarts elves belonged to Dumbledore, not him, so he couldn't ask anything of them without risking that they might tell the headmaster. But, Ah! He had been the sole inheritor of all the Black property, hadn't he? Should that not include house-elves as well? He grinned ferally, and moved back up the steps, going up now rather than down.

He continued up, now at a more human pace than before. He was excited yes, about the possibilities, which he had, before now, never considered, but he tried to hold his emotions in check. There was no real rush, and he didn't want to fool himself into thinking it was foolproof and then have it not work. He found Mrs. Norris along the way to the seventh floor, unworried, since it wasn't curfew yet, and he stopped, kneeling down to pet her.

She purred at him, and he smiled, remembering Mrs. Figg's many felines, and left her be to continue on. He had always liked the cats, and kneazles, if not the smell of her home, and wondered for a minute if that may have influenced his animagus form; the Mishipeshu being a feline, if a scaled, snaky, aquatic one.

He made it to the Keeper's tower after that with no fuss, and sighed to himself as he entered. He thought for a moment, about how to go about calling the elf, and if he should do so right away. Severus called his elf by calling her name, or snapping his fingers, so doing the same should work. He could try both at once, even. But he needed a way to go about this. Kreacher was tricky, and was the kind to find any loophole he could within an order when Sirius had given it; he was likely to react the same to any order from Harry.

So he needed to work out what to tell the creature first, and consider his options. What if this worked, but Lucius was very far away? Could he even get away with bringing the man here if he was closer? Should he have Kreacher pop in out of nowhere? Or just observe unseen? And if it didn't work? What would he do then?

In the end, he went to the room first, and prepared a letter. He was careful in his phrasing, just in case, and thought for a moment before signing it. He wrote 'the one who steals your houselves' just in case, knowing that, while Malfoy would know who it was immediately, it was unlikely that anyone else would. He nodded, satisfied with the note, and blew on it gently until the ink was dry. Once it was, he folded it carefully, though he didn't put it in an envelope, and sat down on the bed. He took a breath, and then snapped his fingers.

"Kreacher!" A pop sounded almost immediately, and the withered, grumpy elf stood glaring at him and mumbling to itself. He grinned. So he was Kreacher's master, then.

"Filthy blood-traitor son, leaving poor Kreacher to half-blood scum, oh if Mistress could see-"

"Silence." The elf's mouth snapped shut as though by magic, and Harry guessed that it might be. "I have a task for you." He held out the letter. "You are to find Lord Lucius Malfoy, and watch him. If he is alone, you will give this to him, and bring me his reply, whether it is verbal or written. If his reply is with words, you will repeat them to me _exactly_ and without leaving anything out. If it is a letter, then you will not tamper with it, and are to bring it to me as soon as it is given to you. If Malfoy is not alone, you will wait, and watch, and will do your task once he is. If he is unconscious, you will wait until he is awake. When you return, I will ask you questions about the state of the man, and where he is, and who you saw with him, and you will answer me truthfully. You will tell no one of this task, and will only bring me his reply, and your report, if I am alone when you return, is that clear?" The elf nodded with hate in his eyes. "Then here. Thank you, Kreacher." He kept his tone polite, if cold, and the elf looked shocked and confused at the thanks, before scowling and snatching away Harry's letter with a snarl. Then, with a pop of displaced air, he was gone.

Harry waited, hoping the elf would return quickly, but when minutes passed, he gathered up a book to read. Several hours later, the elf still had not returned, so he went to his bed. The creature was vindictive enough to wake him whenever he would return, so Harry decided he may as well get some rest while he could.

He hoped things turned out well.

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The morning dawned without Kreacher having come back, and Harry went off to breakfast with a worried sigh. He took his time in that halls, hoping that the elf would pop in, but once he caught sight of other people, he pushed the thoughts aside. Oddball cooed from atop his head, sensing his worries, and he scratched the creature's chin; earning several 'aws' from a gaggle of girls nearby. He ignored them.

Harry was, usually, able to convince Oddball to remain behind when he went to classes, so long as the little puff got to cling to him the rest of the time, though it was growing harder to do so. More and more he found himself showing up to a class or two with the red ball of fluff atop his head. His professors didn't seem to mind overly much, though he had yet to try it in Severus' or Professor Vector's classes. He imagined that, eventually, the thing would just go everywhere with him.

Metis, by comparison, seemed to want to accompany him only occasionally. The rest of the time, she was content to sleep in his rooms, and speak with him once he had returned. She was such a strange snake. True that she slept often like they normally did, but when she awoke, it was quite different than the few other serpents he had encountered. She bounced from happy to sad to irritable rather quickly when awake, and was prone to unusual behavior; like curling into a spring and jumping around, writhing in a dance that made her look like she was dying somehow, and climbing to as high a position as she was able (usually one of the bed posts) and then leaping upon him with a war-cry, only to curl up and fall back asleep on him afterwards. He had come to the conclusion, that she was not entirely sane, but he was fond of her regardless.

She was also growing. Where, when he first got her, she could just barely wrap herself about his wrist, she could now do the same around his upper arm twice. Her thickness had gone from that of a thin quill to a thumb, and, considering her obviously magical origins, he was starting to worry about how he would keep her hidden. He still didn't know what manner of serpent she was, even after looking through a couple books on the subject.

There were more in the secret library, but he had put off looking through them, having packed them up with everything else. There would be time for such studies next year, but for now he wanted to focus on runes and defense. The D.A. had started up again this year, though they met only every other week rather than every week, all agreeing (some grudgingly) that Severus was an excellent teacher in the subject; a fact which made the man very smug from his place behind the mirrors, his presence there still unknown to anyone but Harry.

He settled in at the Gryffindor table, sharing smiles and greetings with some of his fellow lions. Hermione smiled at him and waved from her place next to Ron a few seats down, and he waved back; their relationship still amicable even if they were no longer close enough to really be friends. The redhead didn't even look up from his breakfast, but Harry felt little animosity when looking at him. The other teen clearly regretted what he had said at Grimmauld, and, while he hadn't attempted to apologize again, he had left Harry alone since then; giving the green-eyed teen's temper a chance to cool. Seamus and Neville still talked with Harry often enough, and he considered them to be friends, delving into discussion with them now.

"I've seen those things all over lately." Seamus pointed to Oddball. "Lots of the girls 'ave got 'em. Theirs 'er pink and purple and the like though, not like yours. How'd you get it?"

"Fred and George gave it to me. They breed them. They're breeding the colors so they don't get ones like him often, and they weren't gonna sell him, so I asked if I could have him."

"How'd you get them to give him to you?" Neville looked almost fearful, and it occurred to Harry that most people only knew the twins through their pranking reputation; which is to say, almost not at all.

"I gave them some money to help them start up their shop."

"Oh? I figured the Potters must've had money, being purebloods and all, but I didn't think they were rich." Seamus looked at him, and Harry shook his head.

"I gave them the money I won at the Tournament." He didn't need them to know that the Potters did, in fact, have money, and the mention of fourth year sobered them all a little.

"Ah. That's explains it then." Seamus nodded. "I had wondered what you did with all that. Didn't seem to me that you would spend it."

"I couldn't bring myself to." They quieted, and those around them that had been listening looked down at their plates, no one wanting to remember the way that year had ended. Harry glanced over at the Hufflepuff table without meaning to, at Cho Chang, who still looked depressed. He hadn't spoken to her since she had left with the others last year after learning that they were going to have Slytherins in D.A. His vision was obscured suddenly by brown feathers, and a brown owl dropped a letter into his eggs. It flew away right after, and he watched it go with annoyance.

"Bloody bird." At least his Hedwig was intelligent. The others around him chuckled at his misfortune as he pulled the envelope with his name on it out of his eggs and flicked it to get the liquid off. He opened it with a shake of his head and a sigh, and opened the paper within to read. The single sentence there made his stomach flop and his skin pale, anger and fear curling inside him all at once.

_You are to report to the headmaster's office after breakfast._

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I may have updated early, but I still ended the chapter this way! Now you all have to wait till next time to find out what the old goat wants. Muahahahaha!

Ahem. Anyways, this was a pretty simple chapter wasn't it? Most of Part Two is just build up for all the chap going on in Part Three, since that's when we really start to deviate from things and move into a more unique plot. Also, you won't see the rest of the Avengers until Part Four, but Bruce definitely pops up in Part Three. Maybe not as much as I would have liked, or with as huge a roll, but he's there, and Harry meets him, and… Stuff…

Well, I don't really have anything else to say right now, so see you next chapter!

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	14. Part Two, Chapter Five

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

Mah, I haven't really been responding to reviews lately, so I'd like to apologize for that. Fact is, I don't really have a lot of free time on my hands these days, and I spend most of it on typing this story, and spending time with my friends and my girlfriend. I don't have enough time to respond to reviews these days, so I'm sorry for that.

Aside from that, I'd like to thank you all for your continued commitment to this story, and the reviews I get in spite of my not replying lately. Thank you all very much.

This chapter has some ground work being laid for later things, and Dumbledore… Well, just read.

Hope you enjoy.

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Harry stood outside the headmaster's office, glaring heatedly at the gargoyle. It looked down on him impassively with its' naturally snarling visage, and he felt like snarling back. He didn't know why Dumbledore had summoned him, and that, more than anything, was what was causing his stress. It wasn't helped at all by the fact that no one had given him the password, and that he had been standing here for the past five minutes occasionally barking out the names of various sweets, until he had given up a minute ago.

Had Dumbledore learned about his coming emancipation? Had he used his Ministry connections to stop it? Had he discovered that Harry had summoned Kreacher into the castle the previous day? Were there wards that alerted the man to foreign house-elves entering Hogwarts? Or was it something else entirely? Had something happened? Had Voldemort done something? Was everyone alright?

He swallowed worriedly, and jumped, as the gargoyle suddenly leapt aside. The path lay open to him, and he waited a moment before walking in and stepping onto the stairs, holding tightly to the rail as they curved upwards to lead him to the headmaster's office. He did nothing once he had reached the top, until a voice called out to him.

"Come in, my boy!" He opened the door with a deep breath, and tried to keep his face blank as he went in. Dumbledore smiled at him from behind his grand desk, and Harry noticed that a few of the man's gadgets were missing, and Fawkes was currently asleep on his perch; his head tucked under a wing. He sat carefully, on the edge of one of the chairs, and Harry noted another difference. There was a large stone bowl sitting in the middle of Dumbledore's desk, with swirling silvery liquid within. Harry looked at it, his eyes widening. He had never seen one in person, but he recognized it from one of his books. A pensieve; able to hold copies of memories and share them with others.

What in Merlin's name was that here for? His fingers twitched with the urge to run them across the side. He knew the thing was covered in runes on the bottom, and there was a moment where he desperately wanted to dump it out and turn it over to study them. Then he looked up, and his green eyes met Dumbledore's amused and knowing cerulean orbs, and he pushed the desire firmly away.

"I have heard from the professors about your interest in runes. It seems you're quite skilled with them." The man paused and leaned back in his chair. "I have a smaller pensieve I could loan to you, for study, if you would like it. I only ask that you hear what I have to say." Harry considered the offer, and, grudgingly, nodded, his love of runes fueling him. He knew it was an outright bribe, and the headmaster probably knew that he knew, but damn. Dumbledore smiled brightly, making the teen scowl. "Excellent. Now then... I recently asked one of your fellows for their memory of the event that took place last year. At the time, I did not understand why you were so angry at me for your magic to have wreaked havoc upon my office, which is why I asked them. Upon viewing it, I realized that you lied to me." Dumbledore gave him a look that was stern and understanding all at once; disconcerting Harry. He wondered who had been roped into sharing their memory. Or had Dumbledore just legilimized them without their knowledge?

"About what, sir?" Dumbledore looked very sad, suddenly.

"About having heard the prophecy." Harry's gaze turned glacial. "I know now, why you were so angered at me then; because you knew, when I would not tell you of it, that I was keeping it from you."

"And why, exactly, have you been?" The green of his eyes was dark, and his voice was low, and hard, the barest edge of something animal creeping into the words.

"Because I did not wish to burden you." His answer surprised the teen, being nothing like what he had expected, and it showed, though his anger wavered little.

"Burden me?" Dumbledore sighed, looking as ancient to Harry now as that day that seemed like years and years ago.

"It was my hope, that by keeping you in the dark, you would be able to grow, and live your life as you please. I had planned to let you have your childhood, and your happiness, until you were old enough to be ready for a part in this war, and then prepare you. But things have changed. You know the truth already, and Voldemort is on the move. His forces are expanding more rapidly than I had first predicted, and we are running out of time. This is why I have called you here. It has become apparent, that any carefree childhood I wished for you is already taken from your grasp, and I feel it best to prepare you now, rather than later as was originally planned." Harry eyed him carefully, his anger fading in the face of the old man's tired, regretful visage in spite of himself. Yes, the old man was manipulative, but… That sorrow, that regret, it was real. In all his anger, it had not occurred to Harry that despite it all, the headmaster might actually give a damn about him.

"Prepare me how?" The headmaster smiled weakly, seeming to note his dying anger and being comforted by it.

"I intend, myself, to teach you all that I know about Voldemort, through the memories I have been able to gather, here." He made a motion with his hand towards the pensieve. "Knowing one's enemy is the first step towards stopping them."

"And what about fighting?" Dumbledore looked startled.

"Fighting?" His voice had taken on a slightly uncomfortable sound, and Harry thought carefully before he spoke.

"Knowing things about Voldemort will help defeat him, that's true, but only so much. I will need to be capable of facing him head-on if need be. Knowing about him will help me plan, and work around him when I can, even predict his next move, but it all will mean nothing if I find myself in a situation where I must face him. Voldemort is more powerful and far more experienced than me, and I will need to be able to face him properly, if only so that I can live to get away and face him another day. You said yourself that he's moving quickly. There may not be time to learn how to fight and defend myself later." The old man sat back in his seat, and looked down, stroking his beard. Harry was pleased to note that he looked to be seriously considering the teen's words.

"I suppose..." The man began, after several seconds had passed. "that no matter much I dislike the thought of violence, that, in this matter, you are, unfortunately, correct." His shoulders slumped more with every word. "My own power in dueling comes more from experience and sheer magical strength than any excessive knowledge of spells. My greatest expertise lies in the subjects of transfiguration and alchemy. However, if Alastor were willing, perhaps I could request that he come to the castle to tutor you. Maybe once a week or so. I do not think that would interfere with his duties, or your studies, overly much. I shall speak with him, and let you know his answer, if that is acceptable." Harry nodded sharply. "Very well. Considering this talk, I would like to know how well your studies with Severus go?"

"Well enough. I'm getting much better at it. I can't always block him out, if he's trying his hardest, but I can drive him out once he gets past my walls. He and I have been working on making them stronger. It gets better every week." He was honest, and Dumbledore nodded, pleased.

"I am glad. Mental fortitude will be one of your greatest defenses against Voldemort." The man leaned forward. "I would like us to begin now, if you are willing. To spend too much time within a pensieve can be disorienting, so we shall have these meetings only occasionally, and split what I must show you into parts. I cannot guarantee that our get-togethers will come with any amount of regularity, considering my duties as headmaster, but I will do my best to make them as often as I can, so that you can learn all I know as soon as is possible." Harry nodded, accepting this.

"Alright." Dumbledore smiled again, that twinkle in his eye flaring back up, if far dimmer than Harry was accustomed to.

"Well then, let us begin."

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Watching a memory unfold like it was truly happening around him, but being unable to have any influence on things was disconcerting, and Harry likened it to how it might feel if he were a ghost that no one could see or hear. Merope Gaunt had been such a sad little thing, and he had felt terribly for her, even after Dumbledore had told him more about the woman after the memory was done.

She had lived a life of misery, and madness, and had possessed only one dream in all her life. It had been a foolish, impossible dream, but it had likely been all she had to try and get by without taking her own life. She had created a delusion centered on the lie, and from that delusion she had ensnared Tom Riddle Sr. into falling for her beneath spells and potions. Her love for him had lead to her setting him free, hoping for her dream to become truly real, and he had fled, leaving her to die after bringing Voldemort into the world. What she had done was terrible, enough to even be called rape, but Harry still pitied her.

After being shown a couple memories of her, from differing sources, and hearing more from Dumbledore, he had left the man's office. His hatred for the headmaster dwindled away like dust in the wind, some anger still remaining; though he still couldn't bring himself to care for the man like a grandfather as he once had. No matter how much he might dislike the thought, he would still choose the life of Lucius Malfoy over that of the headmaster; if only for the sake of his friend and the debt that he owed Draco's father.

He found himself drifting through the halls for a time after his meeting, considering the things he had learned, knowing that Dumbledore showed him such things for a reason, if not a readily apparent one, and that the information that had been bestowed upon him would come in handy somehow in the future, though he couldn't yet see how. He could not expect the headmaster to be entirely forthcoming, even when he was sharing more than usual. It simply wasn't in the man's nature.

It hardly mattered though. This had been, for Harry, a victory. He would receive some proper training by Moody's hands, and could even pass some on to the D.A. It wouldn't guarantee a win against Voldemort, but it would heighten his chances at least, and make such a battle less one sided and dependent on fool's luck.

Harry winced to himself at the possible thought of what Moody would put him through, and wondered with a shudder if it might actually be better to just let Voldemort kill him.

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Harry settled into bed that night with a sigh, and just laid there and stared at the ceiling for several minutes. He blanked his thoughts, silently slipping into that here-but-not-here place he went when occluding, only vaguely aware of the world around him, like daydreaming, and began working on his walls. He was uncertain how long he did so, as time passed by strangely in the outside world whenever the mental arts were involved. It could have been minutes or hours before he was snapped sharply back into reality by the sudden sound of a loud pop; so misplaced in the silence of the Keeper's tower. He sat up very quickly, his tail moving out and upwards behind him, poised as though to lash out like a whip.

Kreacher took a step back from his place in the room, and Harry calmed. He eyed the elf, and noted the folded parchment scrunched within his hands. There looked to be two separate letters, and Harry reached out a hand for them in silence. The elf handed them over without a word, for once feeling afraid of his master, with the glamours gone and the scales, claws, and teeth available for all the world to see. One of the envelopes had 'Thief' written on it, while the other had 'Dragon'. The words were written in neat, elegant script that Harry studied, looking for some mark of distress in the handwriting. There was none, though that could have easily been done when using an automatic quill that wrote along to spoken word, and Harry opened his delicately; neither of them having being sealed.

_Dear Thief of My Elves,_

_I am surprised that you would contact me, or even determine a manner in which to do so. I found your letter captured my interest, and I would deign to comment on what has been written there. That you would ask of my health troubles me, and marks some reasoning for having done so. Did you expect to find me in some ill state? I am not. I assure you. You tell me that my son worries for me, and I would share that he has no reason to. I was forced to leave quickly, and without telling others of my actions, but I am in fine health. I have given a letter to pass on to my son, so that he might be assured of this._

_You question my loyalties so directly, though I suppose any other manner of doing so would not be suited to a lion such as yourself. To write of such things on paper, without assurance of where such papers may later find themselves, is foolhardy at best, and perhaps a lethal mistake at worst. I would not comment beyond to say that I am a husband and father above all else, and you may make of that what you wish._

_You write, also, of some trouble regarding my son. I had heard from him, this past year, that he considered himself on well terms with you, but I had not thought it so great as for you to care at all regarding his well-being. I find myself wondering as to why you care at all? Is it not more befitting of a lion to devour a snake, rather than befriend him?_

_I would have you write to me again, little thief, if you would. It seems, in my absence, that a storm has been brewing, one which I find myself unaware of the nature of, and I would like to rectify such a pitiful lack of knowledge._

_Sincerely yours._

The letter was unsigned, but it didn't need to be for Harry to know it had come from Lord Malfoy. His orders to Kreacher had been nearly fool-proof, and he was unlikely to have found a way around them so great that someone other than Malfoy could have received or replied to his letter. He was tired now, and knew that Draco was likely to be sleeping already. No matter his worries, this could wait at least until morning.

"Kreacher. Thank you for doing as I asked." The elf grumbled something Harry didn't catch and nodded, looking at his grimy feet and pulling at his ragged pillowcase. "I want you to go somewhere and clean yourself, and rest, and then return here in the morning. I'll speak to you then. Try to find yourself a better pillowcase or other covering also, if you can, if not, then I'll prepare something for you when you come back. Understood?" The elf eyed him as though he were some wild animal that it didn't want to get too close to and nodded.

"Yes, master."

"Goodnight Kreacher." The elf popped away without another word, and Harry went back to bed, this time to sleep, the weight on his shoulders lighter.

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The next day he found that Kreacher had obeyed his orders, and returned to him looking far cleaner than before, and wearing a plain white pillowcase that was a vast improvement over his previous garment. The elf couldn't tell him where the man had been, only that it was somewhere cold, within a building made of stone. Malfoy seemed to have been fine though, if seemingly tired and a bit unkempt, and Kreacher had said that he wandered through the halls of the building freely, not kept prisoner in a cell. It was far away though, too far for the elf to apparate the man all the way here if needed. Still, it was a start, and good news, and he thanked the elf again before getting dressed, gathering up an insistent Oddball, and heading to the great hall. It was Monday, and he had classes, so he needed to catch Draco at breakfast.

He saw him at the Slytherin table surrounded by others, and picking at his food, and he headed right to him. The great hall, particularly the Gryffindor table, grew silent when they saw him, very few being at all aware of his base friendship with the 'Prince of Slytherin' and Draco himself looked surprised that Harry would come to him so directly in such a public place. A tiny flash of amusement crossed the grey eyes when they caught sight of the puff on his head, but the expression died quickly. Harry handed over the letter with a pointed look, and walked away. He felt Draco's eyes on him the rest of the way to Gryffindor table, and then saw the blonde rush out of the great hall from the corner of his eye a moment later.

He smiled after him, knowing that letter would hold good news for him, and then looked up at the professor's table. Both Dumbledore and Severus were looking at him; the first with great pride at him seemingly crossing the boundaries of childish rivalry, the other with a less identifiable expression. He ignored them both, looking about the task of filling his stomach for the morning, and hoped that things would turn out well from this point on.

He just needed to focus on one problem at a time. He would worry about the Malfoys first, then he would focus on Draco's task and Dumbledore. After that came Voldemort and any other problems he had to deal with.

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"Spellcrafting is more than just the creation of charms and the like. It encompasses all branches of magic, as I've said before." Professor Morris smiled at them all from his position at the table; the older gentleman having taken to sitting with them during every class thus far. "Do your best this week to come up with ideas on something to begin constructing. I want you to bring your ideas to me in class on Friday, and we can begin research as a whole. Before you can begin construction, we need to determine if your idea is unique, and if it is not, then how to make it so. We will research each idea as a whole, and only when each of us knows all we need to, and are certain of each idea's originality, will we move on to the actual construction process." The bell rung overhead and the professor waved them out with a grin, the six of them chatting happily as they left the room.

He left the class in a good mood, already with an idea of what he wanted to create. He would use the little pensieve the headmaster was to loan him. With most such objects, a person was forced to dip their faces into the liquid to view a memory, which, depending on the size, severely limited how many people could look into a pensieve at any one time. If Harry could find some way to broadcast the memory over a room, maybe like a projector, or something similar, the viewing options would not be so limited… But that was a thought for later.

It was Wednesday today, and dinnertime, and Harry had not yet spoken to Draco since giving him the letter. He had seen the blonde in passing though, and in Potions class Monday, but there hadn't been the time or privacy to speak. Still, the Malfoy heir had looked to be in much greater spirits that before; whatever was written in his father's letter had eased him. Harry expected their conversation to come soon enough, most likely Thursday night when he went to his lesson with Severus. He was sure the man knew about the letter, if the looks he had been given since the beginning of the week were to go by.

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Harry sat in the Keeper's tower that night, on the floor in the living area. All around him were scattered various open books, and papers covered in notes and symbols, and in front of him on the floor was a small, upside-down stone bowl, about a hands length in diameter. Thin, tiny runes covered the entire bottom end of it, carved directly into the stone, and he was shifting between scribbling more notes furiously, and casting various spells at it; some for magnification, others for revealing. Something like a pensieve, even such a small one, was a bit above his level, but he was fascinated by it, and enjoying every second of his research. Each look and spell and note taught him more than the past month in class, and he reveled in it. Each part he understood helped make sense of what he didn't, and had him digging back through the texts to make sure of whatever he suspected. Harry was very much a hands-on learner, and when given such an opportunity, he excelled in ways he just wasn't capable of through bookwork.

Oddball, in his usual perch upon his owner's noggin, seemed entirely fascinated by Harry's strange behavior, and peeked as far over his temple as he dare without risk of falling to watch. Metis, by comparison, was entirely unconcerned, and was sliding about the floor in search of a live mouse Harry had transfigured and set free. The mouse was a little on the blue side (having been changed from a blue teacup) but he had still been practicing the spell. It was the first living transfiguration they had learned, and it had only been taught to them a couple weeks ago. No one except Hermione seemed to have really gotten it down just yet.

He sighed, beginning to tire, and relented that it may be time to put his study aside for the time being. Learning about the pensieve first hand was improving his knowledge of runes in leaps and bounds, but even he needed to sleep. He shifted about, doing his best to mark his places in the various tomes and stack them, and arrange the messy, scattered notes into some semblance of order, barely taking note of his ink-stained fingers. When he was done, he stretched with a yawn, and pulled Oddball from his head, petting the soft red fur as he made his way to his room.

"_You sleep now, big-brother?_" He glanced down at Metis, the blue serpent following him across the floor in a lazy manner; a bump in her midsection indicating her success in regards to the transfigured rodent.

"_Yes. I'm done with my work._" She slithered up to his foot, and tried to climb his leg. She was too tired for such a task, however, and he picked her up indulgently.

"_May I come with you when the light-egg leaves its' nest?_"

"_If you like. You'll need to hide in my robes though. My pockets should be warm enough for you to sleep. I have classes tomorrow._" She made a motion not unlike a nod, and he climbed into bed, setting Oddball on the other pillow, and Metis flopped away from his hands, going to curl up around the red creature and share its' warmth. Harry snuggled in, bringing up the comforter and settling down.

"_Big brother?_"

"_Yes, Metis?_"

"_Why must I hide?_" Something in her voice sounded very young. It was a tone of hers that he was familiar with, having realized some time ago by the pattern of her growth that she was little more than a child among serpents.

"_Because there is a bad man in this world, who everyone knows. He has a snake too, and because of him, people would be afraid of you. They might try to hurt you, or me, if they knew that I had you._"

"_They would hurt me for what I am?_" He pet her scales.

"_Yes._" She was silent for several moments, a rare thing for her, when she wasn't sleeping.

"_That does not seem fair._" She whispered. He eyed his own black scales, twisting up his arm in a pattern, and whispered back, the snake already asleep and unable to hear him.

"_No. It does not._"

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Draco finally caught him the next day, as he had expected. His classes that day had been exhausting, and when they were finally over and he went tiredly to Severus' office, he opened the door to find Draco sitting in one of the chairs before the man's desk, the professor himself in his usual seat. They both studied him as he came in, and he settled into the other chair; his usual spot, with a deep sigh. He looked back and forth between the two of them, unwilling to be the one to start. Severus looked considering, his eyes blacker than normal; a sign Harry knew as belonging to the man when in deep thought. Draco's expression, on the other hand, was a mix of suspicion, awe, thanks, fear, and irritation. It was an odd look that twisted his face and made Harry's lip twitch in amusement.

"Would you boys like some tea?" Severus' baritone voice made them both jump, and Harry cleared his throat and sat up straighter.

"Yes please."

"Yes, sir." Severus stood, and motioned them to follow him. He led them into the kitchen on his quarters, and Harry calmed once he had sat down at the table; Severus' rooms being much more comfortable for him than the potion master's office. He set about making the tea, using some spell that heated it instantly, and Harry realized he had never taken note of how quickly the man did it before. He watched the man add in several drops of a syrupy blue liquid, a more concentrated form of the calming potion which had a weaker taste, and felt somewhat smug at his having been right about it. He set cups in front of each of them, and poured some in each, before preparing his own. He sat down once he had, and they all drank in silence for a few minutes.

It wasn't an awkward silence to Harry, just comfortable, and he reveled in it while it lasted, and traced the patterns of the wood-grain in the table with his eyes. The tea was as delicious as it always was, the warm smell comforting him as much as the taste, and Harry wondered how the man masked the taste of the calming potion, and what he used to do so. Or was it some special version of the potion that allowed for the pleasant taste?

"Harry." He looked up into Severus' black gaze, and watched Draco sit up straighter out of the corner of his eye.

"Yes sir?"

"Draco has told me that you recently passed a letter on to him. We can both attest to its' being genuine, but neither of us could determine how you came about it." Harry smiled calmly; the potion likely at work.

"I sent a house-elf to bring a letter to Lord Malfoy. I wanted to see if the elf could find him, and he did, and Malfoy sent two letters back in reply."

"Two letters?"

"One was for me."

"What did it say?" Harry shrugged.

"He just questioned why I was contacting him, and said he was in good health, since I asked in my letter."

"I see. You used one of the Hogwarts elves?" Harry shook his head.

"I used Kreacher." Severus nodded.

"How..." He turned to Draco. "How did you know to use an elf?" His expression had more relief and less suspicion in it now. Harry shrugged.

"It was just a thought. I figured, since elves always know how to come to you when you call them, why couldn't they go to someone else?" It was a lie, Harry not wanting to tell either of them about Frode, and Severus' eyes narrowed, the man experienced enough with deceit to recognize it. Harry met his gaze, and begged him without words to let it be. The professor's face softened slightly and he nodded minutely. Everyone had their secrets, and Severus was willing to accept that Harry was no exception to this. A bang on the table had both black-haired males jumping, and they both looked to find Draco with his fist still slammed into it.

"That liar!" He snarled. "He said he had him! He said he would kill him!" His face was furious. Harry reached out a hand, and watched the blonde's face crumple before he had even touched him. "He still will though, if I don't do as he ordered. Even if my father isn't his prisoner, there's no place in the world he won't be able to find us." Draco covered his face with his hands and leaned his elbows on the table. Harry bit a lip.

"Draco." The blonde peaked through his fingers after a moment's hesitation, and Harry made up his mind at the sight of the wetness in them. "I have a place you can hide. Where you and your family will be safe from Voldemort." Grey eyes widened, and the hands fell slowly, still out with the palms up as Draco's expression turned disbelieving.

"You lie. There can't possibly-"

"There is. I-" He took a breath. "I'll be going there myself, at the end of the year. So I can prepare and buy myself some time. I know that I'll have to face Voldemort, likely sooner rather than later, but I'm not ready yet. The place is unplottable, and there are so many wards on it no one but the goblins could ever hope to find it. And Voldemort wouldn't dare mess with them, not for years to come at least. He needs to worry about taking over the government and subduing the wizards and witches before he can worry about the goblins. It'll be years before he's ready for that, and I'll have stopped hiding by then besides." Draco just stared at him for several moments, seeming to realize that Harry's words made sense, but not knowing what to make of them, or whether or not to believe him.

"Where?" He breathed.

"I can't tell you. It'll be safer if you don't know." Draco paused and then nodded, seeing the sense in that even if he didn't like it. Harry nearly sighed, glad the blonde wouldn't push it. Since Severus had mentioned it, he had realized how much safer it would be for everyone if no one but him knew about the Russian castle.

"How-" Draco shifted. "are we going to get my father and my mom there? Wherever it is? And me?" He added the end like an afterthought, and Harry realized it had been. Draco, for all his vanity and arrogance, was not a bad person.

"We'll have to wait until closer to the end of the year. That way we won't arouse Voldemort's suspicions. I'll tell Kreacher to come when you call him, and you can use him to write back and forth with your father, so you can figure out what he's up to. If we can get him closer to... The safe place, then Kreacher can apparate him there. Same with your mother. As long as we're careful, we can find a way to do this without alerting anyone. And you can come with me when I go at the end of the year." Draco nodded.

"If you can't tell me where it is, how can we know if they're close enough to be apparated?" Harry thought a moment, Severus seeming content to let them plot for the time being.

"Can you get a list of the properties your family owns? I can ask Kreacher how far he can take someone, and if he could make two trips. If you have any properties that are close enough, then your parents could go there." Draco nodded.

"I know some, but I can write my mother for a list." Harry grinned.

"I'll see if I can't order a map or something from Diagon or some other place. We can chart them so I can figure out what's closest. You could tell your mom to go about packing whatever you guys might need for a long trip. Do you think she'll be willing?" Draco nodded.

"She'll likely know what I'm doing as soon as I've asked for the list, though she'll probably think I mean to take her to one of them, not somewhere else. I'm sure I can convince her."

"Good. Do that then." They smiled at each other, both excited at finally having a plan of action.

"Do you intend to only take the Malfoys?" Her looked up at Severus, and considered it. He had been thinking about that since the man had first mentioned it.

"I'd like to bring the Weasleys, but I don't think any of them would agree. They're too involved with the Order. Bill and Charlie don't live in England, so I don't think I'll need to worry about them for a while. The twins can handle themselves just fine. Percy had a falling out with the rest, and he's smart enough to use that to his advantage if Voldemort gets hold of the Ministry. Ron, Ginny, Mum, and Dad can all hide at Grimmauld. It's still under fidelus. When S-Sirius died I became secret keeper, so they'll be safe there." Severus nodded. "I've been thinking of talking to some of my other friends. I can see about how the rest are, and if anyone isn't safe, I'll see if I can convince them to come with me. I don't know who all will trust me enough for that, but I want to help as many as possible. The more people we get safe before the end of the year, the better. Voldemort plans to take Hogwarts, and he wouldn't try if he didn't think he was ready." He looked between the two of them. "You two could check the people in Slytherin, see if anyone else needs to come with. They might be safe from death if they pretend to work for Voldemort, but if they'd rather run..." They both nodded.

"I'll see what I can find out." Severus looked very serious, and Harry nodded at him. "How many people do you think can fit in this place of yours?" Harry thought, considering the information he had on the old little castle.

"Maybe a houses worth of people could fit comfortably? We might be able to cram more in if we have to, but not as easily. I still need to talk to the goblins about stocking up on food and the like, and getting some house-elves to get the place ready." The professor nodded.

"Alright. Do what you need to, and the two of us will look into things. Look into the half-bloods and the muggle-borns mainly. Any purebloods will be safe enough from pointless violence, and smart enough to know to bide their time until they can act."

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Draco," The blonde looked up at him. "I need to get to Harry's remedial potion lesson, so it's best if you return to the dorm now. The blonde nodded, and stood. He hesitated then, a thought seeming to come to him.

"Wait... What about my tasks? I've got until the end of the year to do them, and if we time it right I won't have to kill Dumbledore, but... the other one..." Harry looked at Severus, and the older male looked back. He turned back to Draco.

"I say you do it. If we get everyone out before then, you and I can stay behind, you can let them in, and then we run. Most of the lot will surrender, especially if we let the D.A. in on some of what's going on. They can get the younger lot squared away in the dorms, and get the rest to stand down, so no one gets hurt." Draco looked at Severus, who nodded along to the idea, and then left. Harry slumped in his chair, and eyed the other still present as he heard the door in the living room close behind the blonde. "You let me lead." He accused, and Severus dipped his head.

"I did."

"Why?" Those piercing dark eyes considered him.

"You and I both know, that many will look to you when the time comes. You are not the only one to have become disenchanted with Albus, and many of my snakes were never such to begin with. When Voldemort rises to power, it will be you whom the rest chose to follow, not the headmaster." Something twisted sickeningly in Harry's gut, but he couldn't deny the truth in the man's words. "If you do not learn to lead now, you will not be able to do it later. You've begun learning, with that defense group of yours, but you need more than that. This is different than teaching a few teenagers how to fight. Lives hang in the balance. Yet your plans are solid thus far, if incomplete. If I had felt you were making some mistake, I would intervene, but you did not, so I left you be. In the future, I may not be there to check your actions, or give you advice. I am glad that you have begun learning to depend on others, but you must also be able to stand on your own, and know how to tell the difference between which of the two actions you should take. I know, that the fate laid out before you was never one that you wanted, but it is the one that has been laid at your feet, and you are too noble of a person to leave us all to die. So you must be strong, instead. You must be a leader, and you cannot become one if I am there to make all your plans for you." Harry nodded solemnly.

"Thank you." It was half-hearted, at best, but the other nodded.

"Very well. We have a lesson to get to, now."

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He finally received word from the goblins after dinner on Friday, and he went to Severus immediately. The next day, the man let him through his floo, under disguise, alone. He could not go with him, but he would be there in the castle to cover for him if anyone were to take note of his absence. He was not to meet with the headmaster until tomorrow, so the old man had little reason to go looking for him, and it was unlikely that there would be anyone else to go looking for him, since he usually disappeared into the Keeper's library on the weekends anyways, and his friends had long since grown used to such absences on his part.

He nodded at Grimrok when he was led to the circular room, and barely took note of the second goblin's absence. They had asked him which of the two he would like as account manager, since he inherited both the Potter and Black estates, and he had chosen Grimrok; he being the younger and more vocal of the two. The little creature handed him a few papers, and he read through them carefully, signing his name where needed. They were mostly just in regards to the properties he owned that were occupied, saying that he would help to cover the expense of any damage done on the properties as the landlord, and papers stating that he was henceforth in sole ownership of the various vaults. He signed them all, and handed them back to the goblin, who double-checked them and nodded in satisfaction. He pulled out one last paper, asked Harry to sign it, and then signed it himself. The paper disappeared, and then reappeared a moment later, with a third signature and a seal of some sort on it, and the goblin duplicated it, before setting one copy on top of a few other papers, and rolling the other up. He handed the last papers to Harry.

"These are copies of your emancipation and Lordship records, the originals will stay with us and the Ministry." Harry nodded and set them aside for the time being. He would glance through them later, and then hide them away in his trunk, locked as it was with one of the twins' specialty locks that only opened for him, and left anyone else in an unfortunate state of baldness, purple skin, and incapacitation. The goblin pulled out a small box next, and pushed it across the table to Harry. It was a small little plain blue jewelry box, with a bit of dust on it, and Harry popped it open.

The ring within didn't look how Harry had expected, but it was close enough. It wasn't as gaudy as most signet rings, containing only a single black stone embedded into a thick, silvery ring. The stone itself was about the size of a penny, large for a stone, and was thinly carved in the center with what, when he looked closer, appeared to be a miniaturized version of the Black family shield; with its' centered chevron, sword in hand, and three ravens. The embellishments on the sides and the skull at the top that were on the wall with the family tree at Grimmauld were absent on the ring, and Harry wondered if they had been added later on, or if the ring was simply marked with a simplified version for lack of space. He pulled it out. The band itself was as thick as the stone all around, and entirely plain, if shiny, though on the inner side was carved 'toujours pur' which he knew to be the family motto of 'always pure'.

"You may place the tip of your wand to the inside to change the inscription at any time you choose. The family motto is changed with it, and I believe this is the fifth or so motto since the original." Harry nodded, not looking up from the ring, and decided he would look into such things later, when he could decide on the words and look up the latin translation for them. "Family rings are traditionally worn on the center finger of the wand-hand. If you twist it entirely around your finger clockwise, it will hide it from the view of any save yourself, and twisting it the other direction brings it back into sight. Normally, family rings are never hidden, but I felt you might want to know such a thing for the sake of discretion." Harry nodded, thankful, and put the ring on. He almost expected something to happen. Some rush of magic or great feeling to fall on his shoulders, but no such thing occurred. The ring felt no different than a normal piece of jewelry; cold on his hand from the lack of body heat in the metal, and a bit awkward feeling for its' size and the fact that he was simply unused to wearing any such thing. He stared at it for several seconds, and then twisted it clockwise around his finger until it was facing up again, and looked up at Grimrok. The goblin looked at his hand and nodded.

"Thank you for the information." The goblin grunted and bared his teeth in what could have been a grimace or a smile.

"Now that you have accepted the ring and legally claimed your title, you now have access to all vaults and properties left to you, Lord Black." A shiver went down his spine at the title, but it was not altogether unpleasant. Harry decided that would take some getting used to. "Would you like to visit your vaults?"

"Not today no. Another time, perhaps. Although, I would like to see about setting some things in motion, regarding the property in Russia."

"Ah, yes. Bogdon Stronghold. What would you like done, Lord Black?"

"Do I currently own any house-elves associated with the property?" Grimrok shook his head.

"No. The previous house-elves in service of the castle died out some time ago." Harry nodded.

"Do you know how I might go about purchasing more? And how much of an expense it would be?"

"There's a breeding company you can contact. We could do so for you, as a third party, for a small fee. The going rate for such creatures is currently fifty galleons per elf." Harry nodded.

"And the fee?"

"Any time you choose to go through us when contacting a company it's twenty-five galleons."

"Alright. Could you do so then? I'd like to buy-" He paused, considering the place's size relative to Hogwarts, and the number of elves the school kept. "I think twenty or so should be fine. Can you get them to the castle? I'd like to put Kreacher in charge of them, and he can relay any orders I have to them." Grimrok nodded, and made notes on a paper.

"I can have them there by Wednesday, Lord Black. Once they've been bought they only need to be told where to go."

"Alright. I'd like to visit the place in a few weeks, once they've got it cleaned up. Could you help me with that also? I can talk to you about the rest of the preparations I have in mind, and maybe look into my vaults then also."

"Of course, Lord Black. I can have a portkey made to bring you from Gringotts to Bogdon and back. For a modest fee, of course." Harry looked blandly at him.

"Of course." The goblin gave a feral grin.

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Poor Harry, with the goblins after all his money…

Anyways, things will start to pick up after the next update. Someone mentioned that Part Two has been a bit dull, and honestly, that's pretty much the case. Part Two is mostly for setting things up for stuff to happen in Part Three. It's not a very exciting part. I promise all the crap going on in Part Three should make up for it, and Part Four is when we really move into the Avengers U more and more.

Another question I've had asked a few times, is whether or not they're in the same universe, and yes, they are. I think I've clarified this before, but for this crossover, Harry won't have to suffer though any form of inter-dimensional travel. I won't say it again, so neh.

Now that I'm done with that, I'll see you all in a few days.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	15. Part Two, Chapter Six

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Really! I mean it this time!**

Sorry about the late update. I've been sick the past few days and not really paying attention to the time because of that.

But I'm here now, so here you go.

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Harry found himself sitting in the Keeper's tower the night after his visit to Gringotts, staring at the wall and absently twisting his newly-gained signet ring around and around on his finger. He was glad he had chosen the Black Lordship, as opposed to the Potter one. There were more advantages to being Lord Black, since he wouldn't have access to the vaults otherwise, and he didn't feel right accepting the Potter Lordship when he knew what he did about his true heritage. He knew that Sirius had been Lord Black; being that he had been the only male heir. He had never seen the ring though. Had Sirius never worn it? Or had he hidden it from the view of others out of shame? There was no way for Harry to know for certain if this ring had ever adorned his father's finger, but he liked to think it had. It made him feel a little closer to him, just as wearing the jacket did, and he resolved to never take the piece of jewelry off. It was more than something that brought him closer to Sirius. It was a symbol of his heritage, of the Black family, and his connection to Chronus Black; the last Keeper of Hogwart's.

He left the ring alone to run his fingers along the soft leather of the jacket's worn sleeve. This, he knew for certain Sirius had worn. He didn't know where it had come from, but he knew, somehow, that for some reason, it had been precious to Sirius; the man rarely removing it from his person. It was precious to him now, and, maybe one day, long from now, he would have a child, and when he died it would be precious to them. Or maybe he would have no children at all, and if so, he would be buried in it, and the Black Lordship would pass on to Draco, if he lived, or any sons the blonde might have. He thrust the thoughts aside. With no knowledge of what the future held, there was little point in imagining it.

He had met with Dumbledore again that morning, and the man had shared another memory with him. It was Dumbledore's own memory this time, and it had been strange for Harry to see a much younger headmaster, who was only a professor then, with a beard not even half as long, and it and his hair a color of red that was closer to brown than the hair of any Weasley. It had been the same man though. The same nose and twinkling blue eyes, and the same spectacles. He had watched, no more than an outside observer, as the man had met first with the matron of a rickety old orphanage, and then with a small, black-haired little boy that was nearly as small and scrawny as Harry had been at that age.

He had been a strange, untrusting little child, already with the beginnings of a streak of cruelty, if what the matron and the boy himself had said regarding his treatment of the other children was any indication. He had been so excited, legs trembling with shock and joy when Dumbledore had told him of his being a wizard. But there had been something wrong with him, even then. With his hatred and distrust of adults and the other children, and Harry knew, despite what Dumbledore stated about wishing to go back to that moment; that it was already too late, even then. What little Tom Riddle later became may have been shaped and molded by his treatment at the hands of the others and wizardkind, but the foundations had been there from the beginning. He had been born with something wrong with him; some crossed wire in his brain that meant he would always grow into a monster, and going back would change only the kind of demon he became.

Harry could see so many similarities between his own twelve-year-old self and the young Tom Riddle, but not enough to hold any pity in his heart for the other, the way the headmaster seemed to. No matter the similarities, they were far too different to have ever ended up in similar positions later on in life, no matter what other points in time were altered. While Dumbledore wished to go back and guide young Riddle, to help him, Harry dreamed of going back and snapping his jaws around the child's throat. It might be seen as cruelty, but for all the pain it would stop, Harry would happily be called a monster for it.

He wondered when he had changed so much that he would think of such things, when, before, he would have felt much the same about it as the headmaster did; would have been sickened by his own thoughts. Maybe it had been when he became an animagus, or maybe it was Sirius' death that had altered his heart so. Perhaps it was both, but it didn't matter. All Harry knew was that the child Riddle was lucky that travelling so far back in time was entirely impossible, for if it was not, the kid would be little more than a stain of blood on the wooden floor of his tiny room at Wool's orphanage.

He had told the headmaster none of this; knowing Dumbledore would not accept his thoughts on the matter kindly. They had talked more of the memory afterwards, and Harry had bit his tongue. They had spoken, also, of Moody, who had agreed to teach him, and would be there on Friday and would be teaching him every Friday after that point. Harry's every night after dinner was now occupied, between D.A. every other Monday, Astrology on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and his occlumency lessons and tea with Severus on Thursdays. He just knew his lessons with the old Auror would leave him exhausted afterwards, and he wondered with morbid curiosity at just how sore he was going to be on Saturdays.

He shuddered.

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Monday had Draco slipping a list of Malfoy-owned properties and their locations, or approximate locations, into his hand during potions. That had him sending Hedwig off before dinner to the same store in diagon he had gotten his trunks from, since they sold maps as well, and then slipping off to the seventh floor after dinner. He wasn't the first D.A. Member to arrive there, and a sniff in the direction of the mirrored wall told him that Severus was already present. He sat on the edge of the platform, the practice floor covered in room-provided cushions, and he waited until everyone had come in and settled down before he spoke.

Hermione sat in the front, and narrowed her eyes at him, already knowing something was up. They may not be friends anymore, and rarely spoke, but the girl could still read him all too well. He wondered if that would ever change. He eyed them all with a severe expression, and they all lapsed into silence, sat up straighter, and watched him carefully. Those who had accompanied him to the Ministry the previous year looking particularly attentive.

"Voldemort is on the move." He felt accomplished when noting how few of them flinched; having worked on getting them all to stop fearing his name. No one spoke. "At the end of the year, he will take Hogwarts." Several people cried out, and he raised a hand. They quieted. "There is no stopping him. It will happen. Those of you, and the other students, who are purebloods, will be safe enough. The death eaters will be cruel, but they won't kill purebloods. Those who are half-blood will be treated badly, but not killed, though their parents will not be so safe. Any of you who are muggleborn..." He let the words hang in the air, not needing to add to them, and many there paled. He continued.

"I have a task for you. For all of you; if you will hear me out." He waited, giving anyone who wanted it a chance to back out. No one spoke out. "I want you all to go back to your houses after tonight, and warn everyone. Tell them to write their families; to get away if they can. Leave Hogwarts. Leave Britain. Anyone who is muggle-born, who cannot get away, or half-blood, whose parents cannot hide, or those whose parents are in service to Voldemort, and do not wish the same fate upon themselves, I want you to send them to me. At the end of the year, I will take them all, and I will leave. I will bring them someplace safe, where Voldemort cannot reach them. The rest of you, those who are pureblood, I want you to stay. Stay and protect the younger years and any half bloods who remain here. When Voldemort makes his move, I want you to confine everyone to the dorms and admit defeat. Let them take the school, and spend the year preparing. Prepare for war. If you're brave enough to do this, I will be in your debt for the rest of my life, and if you are not, then leave. Leave while you still have the chance, and you will go with my blessing." No one spoke, and Harry nodded at them all.

"D.A. is cancelled today. Go and think, sleep on what I've said. We will meet here next week, and you can give me your answers then. You cannot tell the teachers, and don't give the details to anyone. If you choose to help, then do what you must to make those who are able to leave and hide, but don't tell them the truth of it." He made a motion with his hand, and everyone seemed to shake themselves before standing and flittering out, muttering worriedly amongst themselves. The Slytherins, Hermione, and Ginny remained behind, and Harry clenched his fists to hide the trembling from their eyes. He wasn't built for leadership; his heart wasn't hard enough for it. The redhead met his eyes, and he was somewhat surprised by the strong, resolute emotions he found there. They were sharp, piercing; and she nodded at him with determination before leaving. He wondered when her crush on him had faded, and when she had stopped being a child. Hermione watched him for a moment, looking as though she wanted to say something, and he waited. In the end she startled him by coming up and throwing her arms around him. She held him tight, as though he would vanish, and he found himself hugging her back. He missed her.

"Be careful." She whispered before letting go, and looking at him. He nodded with a forced sort of smile, and her returned smile was just as false, before she turned and left, and he could focus his attention on the Slytherins. They came up to him, and he waited for them to speak.

"You meant it. Didn't you? You really plan to protect everyone." Blaise watched him with hard eyes, the panther stalking in circles around the snake's legs.

"I can't stop Voldemort. Not yet. I'm not strong enough yet. But I will be. I just need more time. So I'll do what I can to keep everyone safe until I'm ready to rip him apart." Greengrass snorted.

"No offense Harry," She looked sharply at him. "But no matter how much you're capable of, you'll never be able to kill him." She looked sad, and he knew she believed that, even though she wished it otherwise. He looked carefully at her, considering, and at the others. Draco looked down, apparently believing much the same. VIncent and Gregory shifted around, their expressions unsure. He knew by now that, while not the sharpest tools in the shed, they were smarter than they made others believe, but even they didn't think he could do it. Blaise's face told him nothing, but the dark teen met his eyes resolutely. These people knew a great deal that they could have used against him at any time, but they hadn't, and, knowing that, Harry made his choice.

"Do you remember last year, when you asked me what my animagus form was, and I wouldn't tell you?" The blonde girl watched him carefully, her face belying her confusion.

"Yes..."

"If I were to tell you of if now, would I have your word, on your lives, that you would tell no one?" She blinked at him, and then looked to her fellow snakes. He watched them all consider silently, and hold some sort of conversation without words. They each nodded, and he felt the magic of their promise settle around them. It curled within their forms and his like a noose and made the teen shiver. He knew they wouldn't be able to break this promise, even without having made a verbal oath; a wizard's intentions were more than enough for binding magical contract. He lifted up his arm, his sleeve falling back to reveal the glamour band. He touched it gently.

"When I first went through it, I was trying to escape. It was just after fourth year, and Cedric's death was so prominent in my mind that I wanted more than anything to forget. I threw myself into it, focused on nothing but becoming an animagus, because if I stopped, even for a moment, Cedric's dead eyes would flash in my mind, and his voice would whisper in my ears that I was at fault; and I couldn't face that. So I did it, and I gave it my all, and I rushed through it so violently, that I never did take any precautions. When I meditated, I could have lost myself in my mind. When I tried to transform, I was alone, and I never took the potion. When I managed the transformation, I nearly lost myself to the mind of the beast, and it was chance alone that I didn't." He paused, shifting his arm and making the band glint in the light. "Even then, it changed me. Changed my body and my mind, and sometimes I think it even changed my soul." He let his arm fall a bit, and looked at them. Draco was looked at the band with understanding, knowing now what it was; having already known he wore a glamour, but only know knowing why. All their eyes showed comprehension, and Blaise's dark gaze was still glued to his face.

"The Mishipeshu is a dark creature; one I still know very little about, and there are times when I feel I'm more it than human." He kept his eyes on them as he pulled off the band. Blaise's eyes never strayed from his, and he focused on the dark teen even as Greengrass gasped and the other boys took steps back in shock and maybe fear. He flashed his sharp teeth in a predatory way, and his tail flicked behind him in a manner that looked irritated but was only nervous. He looked down at his hands, and flexed his claws, the sharp appendages looking deadly from their places at the tips of his fingers. "One day, I will rend Voldemort's flesh from his bones with these claws. I could do so now, even, if I were to face him. But I want to take no chances. I need to be able to match his magic if I'm to get close enough to kill him the way I want. I need to have the spells, the arsenal, and the skill, to get past his followers and anything he puts in my way to keep me from reaching him. Then, and only then, I'll kill him." He snarled, and his eyes snapped back to the snakes. He put the band back on and stood.

"All I'm asking, is that you have faith in me until then. Give me one year. Work with me until the end of seventh year, and, if Voldemort is not in pieces by then, you can turn to him and forsake me, if that's your choice. But give me your trust until that time." Blaise was still watching him, and as the others finally nodded, true hope in their eyes, the dark teen grinned.

And Harry grinned back.

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Severus berated him for nearly an hour after the Slytherins had left, telling him how stupid he had been to take the risk of telling the. That it was in the nature of a Slytherin to use any information they had to their advantage, and that he couldn't have been any more foolish for offering up such valuable ammo. The man finally shut up when Harry pointed out that he was only mad because he was worried about Harry, something the professor still disliked admitting, and the man had stormed off with a snort and a glare. He would pay for that during his next lesson, but at the time he had simply been amused with how flustered he had made him.

It was Wednesday now, and he had sent Kreacher off to the Russian castle, Bogdon Stronghold, Grimrok had called it, to get the elves cleaning the place up and making it livable. Kreacher had been inordinately pleased at the thought of being in charge of a large group of his kin, and had actually grinned. It had been a twisted expression that looked nearly wrong on the old elf's face, but a grin nonetheless.

He watched the Great Hall at breakfast that morning, noting how many more owls there were than usual, and knew that the D.A. had already put things in motion. The professors seemed to notice the increase in letters also, but beyond a comment or two they didn't appear to think much of it. The winter holidays would arrive in just three weeks, so maybe they thought it was because of that. Harry wondered how many students would leave the school then. A good number hadn't attended this year as it was, new of Voldemort's return already sending a good number of families on the run before the school-year had started. Those were the smart ones, Harry thought.

Care of Magical Creatures was a welcome first class that day, and Harry reveled in the work with the curious little Nifflers, even if it did mean having to hide away anything shiny and ensure his glamour band was hidden under his sleeve. He had completely forgotten Oddball's presence on his head, and the red puff and the thieving critters seemed to get along well, he and one of them squeaking and cooing at each other nearly the entire class; as though they were having some sort of conversation. Hagrid was delighted by it, and kept finding excuses to keep near Harry so he could watch. The teen knew for a fact that the half giant kept no less than five of the miniature puffs in his cabin, and he hoped the big man wouldn't try to introduce them to anything more likely to eat them. He had hardly spoken to Hagrid these past two years, though the man always had a bright smile and a wave for him, and he regretted that he hadn't spent much time with him.

It was for the best though, he told himself. Hagrid would be less likely to miss him or go looking for him with them not being so close anymore. Still, the gentle giant (half-giant) had, at one time, been a good friend, and was still such, to Harry, even if he didn't hardly speak to him. Maybe, once all the unpleasantness regarding Voldemort had been dealt with, he could be close with Hagrid again, and come to visit him in his hut as often as the big man would have him.

He left the class in a somber mood, and moved on to the castle to head to Transfiguration. He had double Spellcrafting later on in the day, and he wanted his other classes to move quickly so he could get to it.

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Dinner had Hedwig swooping in with wooden tube that was longer than he was tall. Another, brown barn owl was helping her carry it, and they dropped it on Gryffindor table with a loud thunk and clattering as it disrupted all the plates and silverware in its' way. He gave her some toast with a chuckle as those around him yelped and complained about the odd package upending their suppers. He picked it up, finding it wasn't all that heavy to him, though his increased strength likely was at hand in this, wiped a bit of mashed potato off one end, and then left, package in hand. Several people watched him go, all curious and wondering. He was sure there would be twenty different rumors about what was in it in the morning, but he didn't care.

He wandered through the halls leisurely, keeping an eye out for anyone following after him, and went up the stairs to the seventh floor, and the keeper's tower. No one bothered him along the way, and he slipped in with a pleased smile on his face. One end of the tube simply blended into the sides, but the top had a cap that was attached by hinges and a latch. The latch had no lock, and he opened it up and tipped it over, shimmying it to get the contents out. The large paper within fell to the floor with a flop. He amended his thought upon sight of it, finding it to be made of cloth rather than parchment or paper.

He spread it out, and beheld the map with wide, curious eyes. It was different than the map he had seen in primary school, with more land about, and colored lines to represent various wards that hid them from muggles. It was of an old style, like a traditional seafaring map, with stylized art of various items and creatures in occasional places that represented the magical creatures living in those places, and tanned and brownish painted land, with each country, ocean, and whatnot labeled in beautifully written calligraphy. He had asked only for a simple, if detailed, map, and wondered what their idea of a complicated one was. It was a gorgeous work of art more than just a map, and he resolved to use bits of parchment and sticking charms to mark it rather than writing on it directly as he had originally thought to do. Or, he supposed, he could use something like muggle pins, without the pointy bits, and sticking charms, if only to save space.

He rolled it up, taking more care than when he had opened it now that he knew how beautiful it was, and put it back into the tube, closing the latch, and adding one of Fred and George's locks to it. Short of destroying the whole thing, no one would ever open it. He set it on his bed for the time being, knowing it was unlikely to fit inside his trunk, and wondered when he had gotten so paranoid.

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Harry looked around the room curiously. It was, according to Dumbledore, a room that had been made for dueling. It was huge, with nothing in it but four stone walls, the ceiling, floor, and the big wooden door they had come in through. Dumbledore had lead he and Moody down to it (the dueling room being located in the dungeons, a level down from the floor Severus' office and quarters, and the Slytherin common room were) and left them there. Harry had been able to hear the headmaster's footsteps leading down the hall until the door was closed. Moody was currently poking about and casting spells around the room, muttering to himself. If he wanted, Harry could listen, but he opted not to. He perused the room a bit, and then waited once he'd lost interest. Finally, Moody seemed to finish, nodded to himself, and turned to face Harry.

"Albus says ye wan' proper teachin'." Harry nodded, and Moody gave a grunt. "Thought ye might ask fer it, at some point er other. Alrigh' then. If I'm ta teach ye, ye'll do whatever I say. No arguin'. That understood?"

"Yes sir." Moody's tone was different than the one he had used that night they shared liqueur together, and Harry knew that, while playing the part of teacher, the old Auror would take no nonsense.

"Alrigh'. Ye wear armor 'neath yer clothes." It wasn't really a question, but Harry nodded all the same.

"Yes sir."

"Take off everythin' but that. Shoes, socks, and yer glamour too, lad."

"Yes sir." He did so, tossing everything but his wand and glasses into a pile near the door.

"We both know ye don' need those." Harry reluctantly tossed the glasses away too. "Yer wand as well. Ye won't be needin' it fer ye firs' lesson." Harry warily did as told.

"Yes sir." Yes sir, yes sir, Merlin he felt like a soldier.

"Now then." He pulled out his own wand quickly and snapped off a spell towards Harry. The teen leapt to the side, the spell just barely missing him.

"What was that for?!" He snapped.

"Firs' lesson is learnin' ta dodge, duck, roll and run."

"Don't I get some advice first?!" Moody grinned, revealing a few missing teeth, and one gold one.

"No better learnin' than with experience." And with that they began. Moody let out several spells in quick succession, and Harry, even with his advanced speed, only just managed to avoid them. Even then, the last of the lot, a stinging hex, managed to catch him and make him let out a yelp; tail lashing angrily. "Whatcha standin' around fer, boy? Don't ye know a movin' target's harder ta hit?" He began again, letting out more spells than the first time, and Harry ducked into a roll and ran.

He made it a few paces and then the stone floor in front of him exploded spectacularly. He made a noise not unlike a startled cat and skidded to a halt, ending up on all fours as he stumbled. More spells headed his way, lights made of blue and orange and red, and he was forced to move; scrambling across the stones on all fours. He was surprised to realize he moved faster that way, low to the ground with his limbs bent into ways they shouldn't quite be able to when in human form, and he hesitated. The hesitation cost him and he was hit again, this time by something blue in color that filled his side with a sharp pain liked he had been cut, but without leaving a wound.

He pushed away his thoughts and moved, avoiding the spells as best he could, rushing across the ground on all fours and using his tail to help steer him. He bounded in zigzagging patterns, just barely avoiding some volatile spells. He let his instincts guide him, just barely thinking at all, and then, suddenly, he was moving up, rushing up one of the walls in bounds and digging his claws into it to get leverage. As soon as he realized this, he faltered, and began falling. He scratched at the wall to try and catch himself, but it was too late. He smashed into the ground with a thump and a hiss of pain, and then he couldn't move because he was bound up in ropes. He grit his teeth and glared as Moody walked over, chuckling.

"Ye did well till ye second guessed yerself. Don' do that. Let yer gut tell ye what ta do, not yer head. In a fight, ye don' have proper time to think. Ye just gotta move. Move and don' falter. Thinkin' is ta be done before the fight, or if ye manage to get some cover. Not till then, ye got it?" Harry nodded with a grunt, his ribs aching.

"Yes sir."

"Good." Moody spelled away the ropes. "Now, on yer feet. Let's go again."

Harry groaned.

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Harry found himself falling into bed that night with a whimper, not even pulling off the clothes and glamour that he had only just managed to put on after the lesson had ended. He didn't bother pulling up the covers, and sank gratefully into painful and exhausted sleep. Moody had forbidden him to get any kind of medical or potion based help, saying that this sort of thing would increase his pain tolerance, and, while he knew the old Auror was correct, right then he hated him for it.

He woke up Saturday morning with a groan, and pushed himself up in his elbows with a wince. He felt sore all over. It wasn't so bad as the night previous, but he felt as though he'd been pummeled into the ground. It reminded him of Dudley and his friend's 'Harry-hunting' days before he had learned to run away, or when they managed to trap him. He sighed tiredly, and got to his feet. He needed to get up. He wanted to work on the map today, having not had time to do more than construct some pinless-pins previously. It wasn't physical work, so it hopefully wouldn't kill him too badly.

He found his way to the living area, and managed to get the tube open to pull the masterful thing out. He spread it on the floor, a box of the false pins in one hand that he had transfigured out of a large bag of marbles in the bottom of his trunk that he couldn't recall having ever obtained, and his wand in the other hand. There were various colors, and he set about marking the map using the lists he had. One was of the Malfoy properties, one of his own (measly by comparison) lands, and there were two more, one from Blaise, and the other from Neville. Blaise and his mother were coming, though Neville wasn't, and they had both said that they could floo people to whatever place was closest that whichever of the three families owned, and then Harry's various house-elves could apparate people from there.

He placed markers for everything, ending up with a map covered in various dots. Yellow for Malfoy, Blue for Blaise, Green for Neville, and Black for his own. The closest place ended up being a Zabini property near St. Petersburg, and just inside of Russia. It was pushing the boundaries for how far the elves could travel, and they would only be able to take one person at a time, but it was doable. They could floo everyone there. The only trouble now seemed to be how to get any muggle families in need of refuge to Hogwarts in order to get them there. That was something he would need to consult Severus about, since he honestly didn't have a clue at to how to go about it without alerting the headmaster.

Unless...

He thought about it a moment. What if they got the muggles there separately from the rest? He would be going to Gringotts the weekend after next, the last opportunity he would have to do so before going to the Weasley's for the Christmas hols. They had said they would make him a portkey with which to do so. Couldn't they do the same for the muggles? Then he could just have them sent directly to Bogdon before he activated the wards. No one would be able to portkey there without permission after that. He had planned to activate them on his trip from the bank, but if he waited...

He nodded. That might work. The only problem now would be in getting everyone to the bank. Once they were in the Alley it was simple enough, but muggles couldn't even see, much less enter, the Leaky Cauldron without help, let alone getting them into Diagon. Everyone could likely get to London on their own, but they would need someone magical to lead them to the bank. He grumbled to himself. A light bulb lit in his mind and he leapt up, promptly yelling out and cursing when the sudden motion brought him pain.

He cussed all the way over to the desk in the bedroom, and was still grumbling as he penned out a note to the twins. He would need to go out into the castle, and make his way to the Owlery, but the sooner they got the letter, the sooner he would know what to do. He mumbled irritably to himself all the way there. The pain in his limbs made for a foul mood that had anyone nearby edging away from him and ensuring he wasn't bothered.

Somewhere, he was sure that Moody was laughing his ass off.

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He was still stiff, if not that sore, when Monday morning potions class came around, and he slipped notes to Draco, Blaise, and Neville about the property they would be using. Somehow, the three teens had become his main co-conspirators in all of this, and he suspected that their involvement would only deepen in the future. He couldn't honestly say he minded though. Of all the people he could have to watch his back, there was really nobody better than the people who already were. Between these three, Severus, Moody, and the twins, he imagined that Voldemort would be in for quite some trouble.

The thought put him in a better mood than he had been during the weekend, between his continued soreness, and some of Dumbledore's memories about Riddle during his school years. The combination of the two having left him in a foul temper till now.

Tom Riddle had been just as much a monster at Hogwarts as he had been at Wool's orphanage. On the surface there had been a charming young man, an excellent student, and a wonderful overachiever. He had gotten entirely good grades, never got into trouble, and the only thing missing had been him being captain of the Quidditch team; as he never played. But it was what lay beneath the surface that proved his true colors. While at school, anyone unkind to him had a tendency of having some terrible accident befall them that couldn't be pinned on anyone being at fault, that often left them maimed; sometimes temporarily, sometimes not. There was a coldness to his polite facade; the boy never dating, and his friends behaving in a manner similar to servants. They would all scramble around to do whatever he said, and seemed to worship the very ground he tread on, though he was never caught joking and laughing with them or even doing anything in return for the many 'favors' they seemed to do for him.

Harry recognized many of those faces as belonging to people later convicted, or 'suspected' of being death eaters. There was just something wrong about the whole picture, and only Dumbledore had seemed to realize it; everyone else believing the boy was all but perfect, professors and students alike. It reminded Harry of those children's books with images that said 'what's wrong with this picture' at the top. Still, after watching them, even Harry could not deny that Voldemort had once been charming and inspiring, and it was that web of charm and lies which let him trap others to the point where, even after they realized they were in the nest of a spider, they could do nothing to save themselves. It only served to make him hate the monster even more.

Class went by quickly, Slughorn rather pleased with their performances, and Harry wandered away to his next class. The others had known better than to look at the notes in class, and he would only be able to speak with them on Thursday, having included in their notes that they were to meet him at Severus' office after dinner. If not for the subjects they would be discussing, Harry might worry about the man being irritated at their lesson being postponed for an hour or so. As it was, he knew the potion master would prefer to know exactly what was going on, and have it all discussed where he could give his own input.

He wondered how Neville would react when he discovered how good of terms he was on with the man who was his boggart.

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The visit to Gringotts came quicker than expected, and he arrived just after breakfast on Saturday, sporting bruises from the day before. They had moved on from learning to dodge spells to learning to dodge physical blows, and Harry was still trying to figure out how an old, peg-legged pirate-looking wizard with a few extra pounds around the middle could possibly be so damned fast. His glamours only made him look human. They didn't hide the large, purpling bruise on his cheek, and Grimrok eyed it when he came in. He glared hotly at the short being; daring him to say a word, and the goblin wisely held his tongue on the matter.

"Right this way, Lord Black. We have a very specific room for portkey-travel." He nodded and followed along. The room he was led into had goblin guards with spears posted on both sides outside and inside the doors, and looked much the same as the room they often spoke in, sans furniture. "This is your portkey. The activation key is the name of the bank. You will say it once to leave, and once to bring you back." He offered up a golden ring, big enough to fit around Harry's head. He imagined he could even slip it up around his neck if he didn't want to carry it, and did so now, earning himself an amused glance from the goblin.

"Thank you Grimrok." He paused. "Before I leave, I have a question."

"Yes?" Grimrok looked impatient, likely having other business to attend to while Harry was gone, and he grimaced inside at irritating the creature again. He had, since that first meeting, done his best to stay in the goblin's good graces.

"I was wondering if it might be possible to set up a portkey that would send a large number of muggles to Bogdon, and how much such a thing might cost if it were." The goblin scratched his chin.

"I'll have to look into it. Would these muggles be aware of the magical world?" Harry nodded.

"Families of wizards and witches." The goblin nodded.

"It should be possible then. Portkeys work as well on muggles as not, but as far as fees go, I'll have to ask my superiors. Part of it is distance, but numbers come into play also, and there may be an extra fee given that they're non-magical." Harry grimaced, feeling his pockets lightening already, but nodded all the same.

"Thank you, Grimrok."

"You're welcome, Lord Black." The goblin left him alone in the room then, aside from the guards, and Harry prepared himself for the travel. He hated portkeys.

"Gringotts."

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He nearly landed face-first in the snow once the portkey had dropped him, and wound up on his hands and knees in the middle of it. It was thicker than the snow he was used to, and he got to his feet carefully. The cold didn't bother him, even though he wasn't dressed for it. It had been snowing at Hogwarts, and Diagon as well, but what was the point of wrapping yourself up in layers when the cold didn't bother you and all the extra cloth just left you feeling clumsy and uncomfortable?

When he stood, he found himself in the middle of a courtyard of sorts, the walls of Bogdon Stronghold rising up on all sides around him. The place was made of grey stone several shades darker than Hogwart's walls, and he studied them. There looked to be three tall floors, making the castle as high as a muggle building with twice the number, each with windows of colored glass, and there were walkways with overhangs against each of the inner walls of the courtyard. Two of the walls, directly across from one another, possessed old wooden doors that were painted white of all colors, and looked strong and sturdy. Their coloring made them stand out against the castle's dark stone, and they were large enough for a truck to drive through them.

"Kreacher." The elf appeared in the snow with him, and Harry thought he looked better than usual, despite there being no outward marker of such in his appearance.

"Yes, master?" He cocked his head to the side. It was the first time the elf had addressed him as master before he had given an order. It was almost like a greeting.

"Would you mind giving me the grand tour?" He smiled at the little being, and Kreacher nodded.

"Yes Master. Right this way." He led him through one of the doors, snapping his fingers to open it, and showed Harry around the place that would soon become his home.

Bogdon Stronghold was constructed of six floors in total; the other three being below ground. Each above-ground floor had several empty rooms, some furnished as living quarters with their own bedrooms and bathrooms, others just empty, a couple communal bathrooms on each floor, and some larger rooms with purpose. Aside from living quarters, the top floor had a large ventilated room for potion-making, and an owlery. The second floor possessed a Library, a bit larger than the Keeper's one. Only about half the shelves were filled, and Harry imagined that if he moved the books from Grimmauld in then it would fill it. There was also a dueling room, smaller than the one at Hogwarts. The ground floor had a dining hall, the kitchens, and an empty, cavernous room that looked to have been a ballroom at some point or other.

The first underground floor was more empty rooms, a smaller, empty, library, several storerooms, and a room with many shelves and a handful of various weapons that was meant to have been an armory at some point or other. The other two underground floors were dungeons, with clean, empty cells lining the halls that were drenched in wards and spells to keep any occupants from leaving. Only the first of these floors was usable, however, the spells on the lowest floor looking to have fade, and the entire place flooded with water.

"We managed to find how the water got in," Kreacher was saying. "and we patched it up, but we is having trouble getting the water that's here out." Harry eyed said water, from his place at the top of the stairs leading down to the bottom level. It had risen to about half-way up the stairs, and there were various bits of things floating in it.

"Kreacher."

"Yes Master?"

"Don't worry about getting the water out. I'd like you to clean it instead, and, if you can, remove the bars on the cells down there. Make it as open as possible." Kreacher looked puzzled by his order, but nodded.

"Yes Master." The sea was nearby, but this would serve him well in the event that he couldn't get to it quickly.

The castle was surrounded on all sides by walls just a meter taller than the roof of the place, that had doors leading inside them and stairs within to reach a walkway across the top. There were short walls up there for cover, and holes that suggested a past of dumping hot oil on any would-be attackers. He could understand, with ease, why the place was called a Stronghold. It was essentially an English-style castle, if a simple one, despite location. Beyond the walls there was nothing but snow for miles and miles, with the sea just barely visible off in the Northern distance, and even then only because of the clear weather. The only other building was a tower nearly a mile in the distance of the sea, which was also part of Harry's property. It was a bell tower, so far as he was aware.

"I want you to see about getting as much food here as you can. Enough to feed a lot of people for as long as a year, maybe more. Things that last long, or are under stasis." Kreacher nodded. "Fill the storerooms. The cells too, if you need to. We need to be as prepared as possible. Make sure there are warming spells on every room."

"Yes Master." Harry smiled.

"You've done very well so far. Thank you, Kreacher." The elf's eyes glowed.

"You're welcome, Master."

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Harry's setting things up to help people...

Anyways, I promise I'll update the next chapter in just a few days, since this one was late, after that I want to go back to the weekly updates, since that's an easier schedule to keep.

We are slowly but steadily moving forwards.

Have any of you seen the trailer for Thor; The Dark World? I just watched the trailer recently… The movie is supposed to come out in November, and we get to see more of Asgard, as well as a deeper look into Thor and Loki's characters. I'm looking forward to it.

I wonder if this fic will be done before it comes out, if not, I might have to go see it, and utilize some of the plot. It'll be fun to see what happens, no?

Bye for now, see you all in a few days.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	16. Part Two, Chapter Seven

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed!**

So here we are. Hopefully all updates will be on Fridays from now on. I'm not entirely certain about next Friday, because I'll be going out of town again, but I'll give it a shot. With any luck we'll still manage an update, if not, it'll be Sunday instead, and then we'll go back to regular Fridays.

There are two chapters in Part Two after this, and then we will have a two week recess before the beginning of Part Three. Part Three has nine chapters, and, assuming we stick to schedule, the last chapter of that will be up November twenty-ninth. Then I plan to have another two week recess before Part four. With any luck, I'll be able to see Thor 2 by then, and include it into the plot. Hopefully.

Anyways, on to the chapter.

Enjoy.

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Christmas with the Weasley family was just as pleasant as the previous year, if not as carefree. Bill, Charlie, and Percy weren't present, a fact that seemed to make Mum's heart ache, and they spent it at Grimmauld rather than the Burrow. It was more subdued as a result. Harry learned that Mrs. Black didn't screech as often anymore since he had threatened her, a memory that made him somewhat ashamed, so they didn't need to be as quiet, but it was still far less rowdy than it would have been at the Burrow. Everyone felt a little subdued, even if they were happy, and Harry's smile was just as warm, if not as bright, as it had been last year when they all gathered in the living room Christmas morning. He sat between the twins, everyone, even Dad, in their pajamas aside from Mum, and each of the near-identical redheads had an arm around him. He leaned back in those arms as Dad fumbled about the tree and Mum hollered at him to get on with it.

Moody was there, hiding back against a wall, and so was Tonks, though she was decidedly more involved. Severus was slinking around in the kitchen somewhere, not wanting to be there, and they were expecting Hermione and Dumbledore tomorrow for dinner. Remus wasn't there, and neither was anyone else. Harry wondered who he would get to see before he returned to Hogwarts. It might well be the last time he was able before he would disappear off to Bogdon. More than anything, his heart ached at the thought that he would not be able to say goodbye, because he could not tell these people he was leaving. The twins and Ginny knew, true enough, but he knew he would be breaking Mum and Dad's hearts when they learned he was gone. His smile wavered, and the arms around him grew tighter; the grins on their owner's faces just a bit more forced. They knew, of course, what he was thinking, and he felt comforted a bit by that, even though his heart pained him with every beat inside his chest; as though it were made of millions of needles that stabbed all around it with each pump.

"Oh come on now Arthur! Sit down!"

"Alright, alright, I'm sitting!" Dad flumped down in the middle of the floor, making Ginny giggle and Mum huff.

"Get on with it then! Come on, let's get the first present!"

"Yes dear." He picked up a purple-wrapped box. "Ginny!" The girl grinned as it was given to her, and so it all began. This year, Harry had given her a book on defense, which she looked thankful for. For Ron, he had gotten a broom, and the teen had looked awed that he would do so. He may not be friends with the other, but they were still brothers, and when he said as much, Ron's face had pinked and he hadn't looked at Harry for the rest of the night. For Fred, he had managed a small collection of relatively rare potion ingredients that made the man (for the twins were men now, not teenagers) grin in a way that made many in the room shiver. For George, he had gotten a purple scarf like the one he had gotten Fred the previous year, with a hyena embroidered on it in silver. He had been pleased with it. There had been a gift for the both of them also, but that was hidden up in their room for him to give them tonight, when it was just the three of them.

He had sent gifts off to the other three Weasley children also, that he hoped they liked. He had constructed a small, warded box all on his own for Bill, that had taken him forever; his skill with wards above average, but not so great that he could make it a career. It was not overly complex, but he hoped the eldest of the Weasley children would still enjoy it. For Charlie, he had sent some calming potions, having heard once from Mum that the man often complained in letters about needing them, with the work he did. He hadn't actually met Charlie yet, so it had been a bit of a guess. Then there was Percy, who still wasn't really speaking to his family. He had debated about sending him anything, but decided that he should, and had ended up buying him a little puff from the twins' shop that was a light green. He hadn't been able to think of what he would like, so he hoped Percy accepted it, and if he sent it back then Harry could always give it to someone else.

For Mum, he had found a set of new dishware to replace some of the Burrow's old chipped ones, and she had kissed him on the cheek in thanks. He had introduced Dad to the wonders of muggle markers, pens, pencils, and mechanical pencils, and he had been absolutely delighted by the rather large set of various types, colors, and sizes. It had been a relatively cheap gift, and Harry had had to get them the previous summer, before leaving for Grimmauld, but it was worth it.

He hadn't gotten anything for Dumbledore or Hagrid this year, though the latter had sent him his usual rock cakes. They may not be edible, but they were excellent paperweights. He had, however, gotten Moody some fine Rumple Minze that had him grinning, only the two of them knowing how much he liked it, and had gotten a present for Severus. The potion master had looked entirely shocked at his having done so, and it was the first time he had ever seen the man do what might be called blush. It was, like Moody's gift, alcohol, though in the form of four bottles of Moscato from various brands. Neither of the men had given him anything in return, but he had hardly minded, and only shrugged when Severus apologized; Moody too proud a man to do so.

He had sent books of various types to his friends, based on what he knew of their interests, and hoped they all liked what they received. He had even gotten some new clothing for Remus. For many of his gifts he had had to order in advance, some months ago, others he had gotten last minute in Diagon after his trip to the castle. He had been given a wonderful collection of gifts himself.

From Mum there had been the usual sweater, this one in blue with a black H rather than the green and maroon one the last year, and Dad had given him a blue rubber duck as a memento of the time they had talked about them. It made Harry smile, even though he was unlikely to ever use it, and he thanked them both with a bright smile, pulling on his sweater then and there. From Bill, Ginny, Neville and Blaise, he had received books on wandless (using a focus other than a wand) magic, dragons (in memory of last Christmas), dangerous plants, and barely legal offensive magic, respectively. The twins gave him a box filled with trick wands, those locks of theirs, puff treats, and little balls that stuck to things and served as alarm systems when active; screaming out loud obscenities at any trespassers and drawing great attention to them.

"Got the idea from Mrs. Black." George offered.

"Just figured we'd give you some things we thought you might need." Fred smiled.

Luna had sent him a set of boots and gloves, with a note that they would go well with the armor she had given him last year. Perhaps his most interesting gift had come from Draco of all people. A twisted dagger the length of his forearm with a hooked edge and an emerald embedded in the handle. There had been a note saying the blonde figured he could use it, and a sheath with a sort of belt that attached, and Harry thought that yes, he could certainly use it. He wondered if Moody had any experience with blades.

All in all, it had been a good Christmas, he decided, even if his heart ached all the while.

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The day passed by lazily, and everyone, even Severus, gathered later in the day for lunch in the kitchen. Mum would be gone later, off doing something for Dumbledore, so dinner was to be a rare, fend-for-yourself occasion. It was different than when he had shared meals with the adults at the beginning of the school year, and there was less teasing this time; but that sense of family was just as strong, and Harry found the pain in his chest easing throughout the meal. Everyone wandered off to do their own thing afterwards, and the twins left. They said they needed to check up on a few things at their shop, and that they would be back by bedtime. Harry waved them off before they apparated away. Harry found himself alone in the kitchen with Moody. But then he left too, patting Harry on the shoulder with a grin and saying he'd be back in a couple of hours.

The silence, alone in that kitchen, felt deafening to Harry. He looked down at the table, lost in his thoughts, and then up. He started when he realized that he sat in the same place he had that day he had tried to tell Sirius the truth. His eyes moved to the chair the man had sat in then, and stayed there. He could imagine it now, perfectly. He could envision his father sitting there, eyes dark and face angry as he accused Severus of lying or scheming just to hurt him; as he cried out that it could not be true.

How was that? He had been with Harry's mother. His own existence was proof of that. Had his mind been addled by the dementors so badly that he could not even recall such a betrayal against his best mate? Or had his mother done something? Everyone always told him how skilled she was with charms, and such spells that erased or altered memories were classified as charms. But with Sirius dead, there was no way to know. He wished, pointlessly, that the man lived still. That Sirius would suddenly walk through that kitchen door and sit down at the table to answer all his questions and make his world right again.

As though born from the thought, a black dog suddenly came bounding through the entryway. Harry gasped, eyes widening and heart pounding inside his chest. And then he looked closer, as it came running up to jump up against his legs in a desire to be pet, and his heart fell. He scratched an ear, recognizing the panting canine now. It had grown, but it was the same puppy he had sent Sirius for Christmas the previous year. He hadn't seen the thing since then, and had truly forgotten all about it. Where had it been all this time?

Seemingly in answer of his question, Remus came into the kitchen next, and Harry realized the mutt had likely been placed in his care. He looked at Harry immediately, and then at the dog, and smiled sadly, almost as if he knew exactly what the teen had first thought when he caught sight of the beast. It likely showed on his face.

"Harry." The werewolf sat himself at the table. The man swallowed. "H-How have you been?" Harry suddenly felt rather guilty for not having owled the other all this time. But what was he to write?

"Remus. I've been alright. You?" The man was pale, and it occurred to Harry that the full moon was likely close by, whether coming soon or just passed. But he didn't keep track of the lunar cycle. Remus cleared his throat.

"I've been alright. The full moon was just a couple days ago." So he was right then. "I'm just tired, mostly. How are your classes going?"

"Good. My grades are good enough." Remus nodded.

"You still wear that." He pointed to the jacket, and Harry shrugged.

"It... It just..." Remus smiled gently.

"I understand, Harry. You don't need to explain. Sirius would have wanted you to wear it. He loved the thing." He chuckled, and Harry felt more at ease.

"How did he get it? Do you know?" Remus shook his head.

"Not exactly. There was a time, just after sixth year, when James got it in his head that he wanted to go explore the muggle world. We went to London. Back then, Sirius was always getting distracted by things and running off. We were in a store and he disappeared. Took us two days to find him. We'd worked ourselves into a good panic by then and he just walked up to us, like nothing was wrong." Remus' expression was somewhere between fond and frustrated, and Harry laughed. "He had it on then. We were so glad he was safe none of us ever asked where he got it, then I suppose I just never thought to. I don't know if James ever asked him. He might have known about it, since he and Siri were closer. But he always wore it after that. I always thought it was strange that he wasn't wearing it the night he was arrested, but I think he knew what would happen to him, and left it behind for safekeeping." Harry nodded and fingered one of the sleeves. They were still too long, but he had grown, and the shoulders weren't so wide to him as before.

They chatted a little more, Remus sharing little things with him about Sirius and James, and then Harry said his goodbyes and went back up to the room he shared with the twins. He had chosen to join them in their room on the third floor rather than remain in Sirius' room. It was too painful to see it so barren. He sat on the bed, and gathered up the book he had gotten from Blaise.

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He was consumed in the book, it being more interesting than he had thought, and didn't put it down until Fred and George's return. He hadn't even heard them enter the room, and was only made aware that they were there, when suddenly the bed shook. He look up to find George sitting there and grinning at him, Fred standing just next to his seated brother with a look of humor on his face.

"Careful now. You're startin' to turn into a regular Hermione little Hare-bear." George teased. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Liking a good read doesn't mean I'll die by having stacks of them collapse on me." They snickered at his joke, and he smiled at them. "So how's the store?" Fred climbed onto the bed, pushing past his twin to lean against the wall it was next to.

"All's well enough." He shared. "We hired some staff couple months back, but it's the first time we've left them to mind the place alone, so we just wanted to check in." George smiled.

"They're managing." He said. "Nothin' has exploded or caught fire yet."

"Which is better than when you two are there, I imagine." Harry spoke wryly.

"Oy!" Fred looked indignant.

"I'll have you know we try and keep the explosions to a minimum!" Harry snickered.

"Yup." Fred nodded. "We've even gotten it down to just one a week. Not bad, I'd say." Harry shook his head with a grin.

"Of course you do." They all shared a smile, and then Harry remembered his present. "Oh!" The redheads both blinked and watched him scramble off the bed and dig through his backpack in its' place near the dresser. He pulled out an old worn-down book. He handed it to George when he came back, since he was closest. "This is for the both of you. I'd have gotten separate ones if it wasn't unique, but I don't think you'll mind too much." His smile was a little sad when George took it and opened it, Fred peeking over his brother's shoulder to get a look at it himself.

"This is-" George gasped, and both redheads looked up at Harry with wide eyes. He shrugged.

"I've read it nearly a dozen times now. I'm not really one for pranks though. I know you don't do it as much, now that you two have yer' shop, but I thought maybe it could give you some ideas." He had barely spoken when he found himself buried somewhere between four arms and two torsos, and he tried to get an arm around both in reply.

"**Thank you, Harry**." He smiled at the familiar synchrony, and knew he had left the thing in good hands.

Who else could he trust to keep the Marauder's ledger safe?

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The return to Hogwarts came with mixed emotions for Harry. He found himself missing Remus, Fred, George, Mum and Dad already, and almost wishing he could have stayed at Grimmauld for them. But, on the other hand, he was glad to be back at Hogwarts, with the lake and forest, and the tower. He felt safer here, in this place that, while holding some bad memories, did not make him recall such pain as Grimmauld did. He felt safer here, even if, given past experiences, he had little reason to, and, while he could never regain that thought of Hogwarts being synonymous with home, he was more content here.

He wondered, during the welcome-back dinner feast, why the room felt so much smaller, and then he realized why, and sighed. Clearly the D.A. had done well with their task; none of them backing out about what he asked of them, for many students had not returned after the break, and many of those who had were pureblood. Most of the first and second years, even, were gone now.

The normal number of students, on record, was something between four and five hundred students. This had been true of last year. His year, and the years above, as well as the one just below, had less students than the norm, because so few people had dared have children during the first time Voldemort rose to power. The next few years had a baby-boom however, so the current numbers of the first four years had made up for the smaller numbers.

At the beginning of Harry's fifth year, there had been about four hundred and thirty students. Then Voldemort's return had been revealed. Because of those families smart enough to leave at the start, there had only been three hundred and seventy odd students at the start of this school year. Now, a bit less than half that number had not returned. He counted by twos, his math hindered a bit by how much he could see from his place at the Gryffindor table, and his count led to a number of, rounded out, was only two hundred students, give or take fifteen or so.

He imagined it was the smallest number of students the school had seen in a very long time, and he could see the professors talking rapidly, their pointing and looks towards the tables seeming to mark their chain of thought as regarding the low number. Dumbledore looked out on the chatting and eating students with sadness written all over his face, mixed with confusion. People's reactions tended to be based off the Prophet, after all, and the paper had written nothing lately that would lead to such a drop.

His D.A. had done their duty, and rather discreetly too. They were hardly professionals, but he imagined this task had turned out similarly to how it would have if done professionally, and he was grateful. He hoped the families who had been smart enough to pull their children out were also smart enough to leave Britain. He caught the eyes of several of the D.A. members, and nodded at them. They were all here, not a one having left, not even those who were muggle-born, and he was already constructing a mental list of who he would likely be taking with him to Bogdon stronghold.

He just hoped it was enough, and that he would be able to keep everyone safe.

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The first meeting of the D.A. after the return from break featured a blackboard set up near the mirrors, with Harry making lists as the members rattled off names and people. He had nearly covered it when the last of them ended their report.

"Is that it then?"

"Yes." Hermione looked at the list. "This safe place of yours, is it big enough, Harry?" He turned to the girl. Neither her, nor her parents were on the list, and he wondered what she had done to protect them. The girl was smart enough to know what was at stake, and he hoped she and her family would be safe.

"Yea. There's enough room." The list contained himself and twelve other members of the D.A, as well as their families, two of those members having just joined this year. Those numbers, including parents and any siblings, equaled out to thirty-eight people. Then there were twelve other students who had agreed to flee, and their own families, which added on another forty-three people, and left them with a list of eighty-one. It would push it a little, but, so long as the parents all shared rooms in so far as being couples, then he thought he could fit them all into the furnished rooms, and maybe only have to set up a few of the empty ones with proper furnishings. "I might have to buy some more furniture, but everyone will fit, and there'll be extra room as well." Hermione nodded, satisfied. "Are you sure this is all the Slytherins who are going?" He asked Blaise. The dark teen and his mother were on the list, as well as Malfoy and his family. One of their newest members, the only new snake to join up, Tracy Davis, and her bunch were also on the list, but there were only two other snakes and their families on the blackboard. Vincent, Gregory, and Daphne not listed. Blaise nodded.

"Some of them want to stay behind. Anyone who can get away with it is remaining here." Daphne smiled.

"This way we can pretend to serve, and send you word of what's going on. The Dark Lord probably won't let anyone but us snakes send messages outside the castle, so this way we can spy for you, and try and keep things under control on the Slytherin side, like the others will do in the other houses." Harry nodded, jaw set. He didn't like it, but information would become key soon, with him in Russia unable to see what was happening here first hand. It would help him know when he had to act, even if he wasn't ready.

"Speaking of that." Ginny spoke up. "How are they supposed to contact you?" Harry looked at her.

"Send the letters to the bank, and they can get them to me. No one else will be able to reach me but the goblins. It's safer for everyone that way." She nodded.

"And this place of yours," Hermione started again. "It has food and everything?" He nodded. "What about education? How are the students going to learn there? He blinked. "You didn't even think about that did you?" He scratched his head sheepishly.

"Maybe the parents can teach." Draco added. "My mom is good with Herbology. I'm sure she'd be happy to help out." Blaise nodded.

"My Mum knows arithmancy like no one else."

"You could teach defense, yourself."

"I-" He paused his objection. Hadn't that been what he'd been doing with the D.A. all this time? "Alright. I want you to talk to everyone who's going, have them write home. Ask everyone's parents what they know, what they'd be willing to teach. The muggles too. If we can get most of the subjects covered, we can work the rest out. There's a library there, so if someone doesn't know it then we can learn and teach right out of the books if we have to. Make sure everyone knows to pack whatever they need, but not more than they can carry. If you're not able to hold it when you go, it get's left behind." Everyone nodded. "Anymore questions?" Justin piped up.

"What kinds of things do you think we'll need?"

"Clothes and toiletries mainly. Personal items. Anything sentimental. If you've got pets then anything you need for them too. Also, as far as clothes go, everyone should pack for cold weather." The Hufflepuff nodded.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Sarah Reems asked. He had heard that question a number of times now.

"Nothing short of a Hungarian Horntail could get to us." She nodded, accepting the answer even if she didn't look all that believing.

"Harry..." He turned exasperated eyes on Hermione once again. "Why isn't your family on the list?" His brows scrunched in confusion, and he opened his mouth to reply, thinking first of the Weasleys, but then he realized that wasn't what she meant. The Dursley's. He froze. He had, entirely forgotten about them. They were his only blood-relatives. Dumbledore had, during one of their meetings, told him of the wards on Privet Drive, and answered his questions about them. If he didn't return during the summer, then the wards would fall. The Dursleys, being related to him, would become targets for Voldemort to go after.

His blood ran cold. For the first time he realized he cared about them, and something deep within roared in furious rage at the very thought of any magical person raising a hand to them. It was that same thing which had led to his hand crushing Bellatrix' windpipe. He took a breath, turned around, and wrote down their names. The number was eighty-four now.

He needed to speak with Severus.

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He had managed to catch the man later that day, and Saturday evening he found himself taking the Knight Bus, under disguise, from the Leaky Cauldron to Privet Drive. How could he possibly have forgotten them? Had Hermione said nothing, they would never have come to his mind, and the wards would have fallen after summer, and then...

He shivered, guilt eating at his heart in a way it had not done since after fourth year. His lack of thought would have become the death for the last of his immediate family. True that blood was not everything, but they had been kind to him these past couple years. Could he not repay that kindness by at least thinking of them as family like he thought of the Weasleys?

He stepped of the fast-moving bus near the park on much steadier legs than he had the last time he'd ridden on it; the speed once having disoriented him too much, but no longer doing so. He pulled the hood of his cloak up as the bus left, and switched the disguise band for the normal one quickly. When that was done he pulled it off altogether, left only in jeans and a t-shirt, and Sirius jacket. He wore the armor under it all, but no one would know that, and the boots Luna had sent him, though he passed on the gloves. He imagined he looked underdressed, given the cold, but he didn't care much, and he proceeded to Privet Drive with his hands in his pockets. He had left Oddball at Hogwarts, and, having taken to bringing the puff everywhere with him, felt strange without that weight on his head.

Uncle Vernon's car was in the driveway when he came upon the cul de sac, which he had expected, given that it was the weekend, and he was thankful there looked to be no other cars. Sometimes they had dinner or lunch guests, but it didn't look as if they did today, and that made things easier for him. He knocked, and was pleased when Dudley answered the door. That the teen was home, meant that his Aunt would be also, and unless Vernon had carpooled with work buddies to a pub, he would be home as well.

"Harry! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at that school?" He looked shocked to see Harry there, and Harry didn't blame him. He had never once come home before the school-year was up, until now.

"I need to talk to you all. It's important." His serious tone gave him away, and Dudley straightened.

"Has something happened?"

"Sort of." His cousin stood aside to let him in. "Where are they?"

"Watchin' the telly." He nodded, and went into the living room. Aunt Petunia noticed him first.

"Harry!" That had Vernon looking up, and he started at the sight of the teen, his face scrunching in confusion.

"It's not summer yet. Did you get expelled?" Harry shook his head.

"No. But I needed to talk to you. All of you." Vernon switched of the television. He was not a particularly smart man, but he knew business when he saw it. Harry sat down on the settee, and faced them; Petunia in her armchair, and Dudley sitting himself on the couch next to his father.

"What's going on? Has something happened?" He looked carefully at his Aunt, trying to think of where to start.

"Did my mother ever tell you about Voldemort?" She shook her head, looking confused, and he decided to start from the beginning.

"Wizards," His uncle shifted uncomfortably. "Are no different than anyone else. There's good ones and bad ones. Nice people and criminals."

"Is that what this Vole-dee-whatever is?" Dudley asked. "A criminal?"

"I'd liken him more to a terrorist." They all paled. "He's the one who killed my parents. All those years ago. He was trying to take over the magical world and they were helping fight him. He tried to kill me too, but something happened. The spell he used backfired onto him, and made him like a ghost for all this time, but he's back now." They were listening more intently to him now than he thought they ever had, and he tried to think of what to tell them.

"He... To him, being beaten by a baby, even if it was just an accident or a fluke or something, is an embarrassment. So he wants me dead now."

"He's trying to kill you?" Dudley looked horrified.

"Yes. What happened all those years ago made a lot of people think that I can somehow stop him, so they all look to me to kill him." He looked down and twisted his hands together. "So I will. But I'm not ready yet. Voldemort... He's very very powerful, and I can't match him just yet, but he's making his move, and at the end of the year he's going to take over Hogwarts, and there's nothing we can do to stop him without a lot of people dying."

"What are you doing then?" He looked back up at his Aunt.

"I plan to leave. I've got a safe place hidden away where he won't be able to find me, and I'm gonna go there, and prepare once he's made his move. There are a lot of people in danger, and I'm taking as many with me as I can." He made a motion towards one of the walls. "There are wards, magical protections on this house. They're tied to my mother's blood, and they're the reason none of Voldemort's followers have ever come here before. But when I don't come back this summer, they'll fall." Vernon was white.

"Are we going to die?" He whispered the words, almost as though he wasn't really asking, and Harry shook his head.

"That's why I'm here. I want to take you away with the others, but sooner, so I'll know you're safe." Petunia nodded decisively and stood.

"I'll start packing." Vernon sputtered.

"But my job! And Dudders has his schooling!" She glared at him.

"And neither of those are more important than our lives! You can find another job later, and we can get Dudley a tutor when this is over and put him back in school!" She yelled. Harry had, not once in all his life, heard his aunt raise her voice to her husband, and the man flinched as though she had hit him, and then nodded, shoulders slumped. His aunt looked to him then. "What sorts of things should we bring?"

"Clothes. Especially for cold weather. Any toiletries and the like that you need, and anything you can carry that's important to you. If you can live without it, then leave it. Pack like you're never coming back here." She took a shuddering breath, and nodded. "And nothing electronic. Electricity doesn't work well about magic."

"Alright." And then she was gone, up the stairs to pack.

"I... I'll help her." Vernon, still pale as death, tottered after his wife, his face still holding shock and disbelief. Harry was left alone with Dudley. His cousin was staring at him intently.

"You're really gonna fight him? This terrorist man?" Harry nodded.

"I have to. People expect me to stop him; to save them. I can't just let everyone die." Dudley swallowed and looked at his hands.

"And what about you? You could die too." He whispered, and Harry could think of nothing to say to that, because his cousin was right.

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He hadn't intended to take them that day, but it was just as well. He knew the elves had already begun stocking up on food, so they would be able to take care of the Dursleys while he was at Hogwarts. He could try and slip away from the castle some weekends to check in on them. There were a few months yet until the school year would begin drawing to a close, and he would be content to know they were safe in the meantime. He hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't take notice. He had been sneaking out of the castle with increasing regularity, and he didn't want it to catch up with him now of all times.

Vernon wasn't happy about it all, but even he understood that some things were more important than others, and so he kept quiet, driving them into London, and following Harry's directions. His anger didn't appear to be pointed at Harry at least, so much as the situation in which they now found themselves. Harry slipped on the glamour before they got out of the car, startling them, but he put a finger to his lips and they said nothing.

He watched Vernon's eyes glide right over the Leaky Cauldron, while his Aunt was staring right at it.

"Are you sure this is right? There's nothing here boy!"

"I'm sure Uncle. Here." He grabbed one of the man's arms and did the same with Dudley. Both of them were carrying several bags. His aunt was too, and she followed after him puzzledly. "Keep quiet and try not to stare too much." Both males gasped when he brought them up to the door, only now able to see the place, and he led them in silently. They managed to refrain themselves from little more than suspicious sideways glances at the pub around them, and Harry took them out the back unnoticed.

They couldn't hold back so well when the stones opened and revealed the Alley, and glanced about themselves in wonder not unlike Harry had at the age of eleven. Even Vernon couldn't contain his awe, finally understanding the wonder of this world he had, until now, shunned so venomously. They stuck close to him as he led them through the small crowd of people in the alley, and, while the muggle clothes gathered a few odd looks, it was nothing worrisome. He brought them up to the bank, and turned around to get their attention, all of them reading the door's inscription.

"Remember. Don't say anything. The bank is run by goblins, and they don't take lightly to rudeness, so don't stare or draw attention to yourselves." They all nodded, and he opened the doors. Dudley ended up staring several seconds at a goblin, before looking at his feet, and Vernon turned white again; his eyes darting about fearfully. Only his aunt managed to remain relatively composed. He went up to the counter, and the young goblin there looked up at him almost immediately. "I need to speak with Grimrok." The being nodded, and yelled something out to another in his native tongue. They were led to his usual meeting room, and the Dursleys warily settled in at the table with him.

"Grimrok?" Dudley asked curiously, having heard what he'd asked. Harry nodded.

"He's my account manager." The short goblin came in then, a grumpy look on his face, and he eyed the muggles with a sneer before addressing Harry.

"Lord Black. A pleasure as always." His voice said it was anything but, and Harry was dismayed to see he had irritated the other again.

"My apologies Grimrok. I didn't mean to show up unmentioned and interrupt your work, but I'm afraid this matter came up a bit suddenly, and I wasn't given proper time to make an appointment." His formal apology seemed to ease the goblin's ire, and he nodded.

"Very well. What was it you needed?"

"I require a portkey to take these three to Bogdon, and to bring myself back." Grimrok nodded.

"It'll take a moment, but I'll see to it."

"Thank you. I also had a question?"

"Yes?"

"Would it be possible to make a reusable portkey? To take myself back and forth from Bogdon when needed? Preferably something only I can use." The goblin grinned; an expression Harry had come to associate with a lightening of his bank accounts.

"Of course. Such a thing takes awhile to construct, and is a bit on the expensive side, but you can afford it. I will require a vial of your blood to make such a thing." Harry sighed, and nodded.

"Could you set it up then?"

"Of course, Lord Black."

"Thank you then." The goblin nodded and left to get the portkey, and Harry laid his head down on the table.

"Lord Black?" Petunia asked, and he groaned.

"I'll explain it later." The goblin returned about five minutes later, just as the Dursleys began to calm their nerves, with another gold ring nearly three times the size of the one he had used the first time. There was another goblin with him, this one an inch or so taller with light green skin who carried a potion vial and a knife. Harry swallowed.

He didn't need to be told to know he wasn't going to like this.

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The knife was enchanted, and once they had filled up the vial of blood, the painful cut across his palm closed of its' own accord, though it left a scar. He eyed the new line now, straight across his palm. It was thin, and white like an older scar would be; entirely unnoticeable unless you knew it was there.

He had left the Dursleys in the main hall, looking about the castle around them in wonder. Kreacher was already waiting to look after them, and though he pursed his lips at being told they were muggles, he didn't complain or insult them like Harry had expected him to. The teen received only the usual 'yes master' in reply to his orders, and he wondered to himself when it was he had managed to earn the grumpy house elf's respect.

He was in the Keeper's tower now, looking at the map he had stuck to the wall. There were little red pins on it now, with the others. He had taken to marking as many incidents as seemed to be caused by Voldemort as he could. He didn't know them all; only having the last several months of the Prophet to work from. The map was huge enough that England was about half the size of his palm, and the whole thing together took up almost the whole wall. Not all of the attacks had been on the island. There had been a handful of attacks in Ireland, France, Belgium, and the Netherlands; with the farthestmost attacks being a couple of incidents in Germany. They were centered on the United Kingdom, and grew less the farther from the center of the island that you went; like a thinning spiderweb.

Harry didn't think Voldemort would spread out much farther until he had managed to conquer England entirely, and hopefully his prediction proved correct. The last thing they needed was for the Dark Lord to decide he could take on Russia. Harry didn't think he could, even if he took over the U.K., Russian wizards and witches, and the muggles too, were made of tougher stuff; stuck living in the, sometimes unforgiving, landscape of their snowy country. The Russian wizarding law book had been simple and to the point, and when you read between the lines you learned a thing or two.

Wizarding Russia was different than other countries, in that, while there wasn't a whole lot you couldn't get away with, those laws they did have were enforced with an iron fist. The Magical Russian government was quite clear on its' stance regarding invaders. Thus far, there was nothing against the laws there that Harry was doing, or planning to do, and since he owned land there, they would treat him little different than a citizen while he occupied their country. If Voldemort ever found out where he was, and tried to storm Bogdon; the Russians would take it as an act of war against them, even if the Dark Lord was only after Harry.

The teen had, out of curiosity, looked into the history of magical war in Russia, and it had been further enlightening. He had indeed chosen an excellent place to hide away, because, when regarding battle that took place on their home-turf...

The Russian wizards had never lost.

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The next few weeks passed Harry by very quickly. He attended his classes, did his homework, worked on his mental defenses, and plotted both with the D.A. and with Severus and Draco. The D.A. and he had been discussing the best way to keep the casualties and injuries to a minimum when Voldemort took the castle. It had been hard for Harry to agree to just let the man take it without a fight, but too many people would die if they tried to stop him.

They had found a way keep Voldemort from getting too suspicious. The Slytherins were going to make it look as though they had trapped the students in their various dorms, and make it appear that Harry, Draco, and his friends had fled before they could catch them. The trapping of the students would be counted as a success, while his escape would be a failure. The end result, they hoped, was that Voldemort would be angry enough about him getting away that he wouldn't look too closely at the situation, but the capture of the castle would please him enough that no one would find themselves harmed for not being able to stop him.

He would consider the Malfoys and the other Slytherin families that were coming to Bogdon to officially be traitors. It would mean that if Harry lost against the Dark Lord, they would be condemned to death upon capture. It didn't worry him overly much, since he intended to win.

They were going to start moving the muggle families to Bogdon, one by one starting next week instead of waiting. Then the only last minute escapes would be he and the other students themselves, and the Malfoys. That meant that once they had all reached the Zabini property by floo, it would only take one big trip and one smaller one for the elves to get them all to Bogdon Stronghold. He had started receiving more information to add to his original list of people that now included occupations and who was willing to teach.

He now had a large paper about half the size of the map with all that information on it, and more coming as people got more letters from home. Draco's idea on having the parents teach seemed to be working well. Most of the families coming were thankful for what he was doing for them, and saw this as a way to pay him back some. He didn't feel as though they owed him anything, but he would let them think what they wanted, since it solved their problems with education.

Ginny had jokingly told him that he was making a miniature version of Hogwarts, and he found that in a way she was right. He wondered what would happen once the war was over. Would all these people return home and go back to the lives they once had? Or would some of them want to stay? He would let them. If they did. He was forcing them from their normal lives, albeit to protect them, and he felt terribly about that. So he would do whatever he could to make it up to them all.

Draco had told he and Severus of the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement's hidden room. Merlin only knew how he had found the thing, but the other end was in Borgin and Burkes, so it was a way to get the death eater's in. If anyone knew Harry was actively helping in that part he'd be locked in Azkaban. But it was hardly the only thing they would lock him up for.

Letting them in this way meant no damage to the castle. Voldemort intended to take Hogwarts at the end of the school year no matter what; whether that meant slipping in with ease or storming and destroying half the building to break in wouldn't matter to him. Thus, he would slip away with the others to Russia, and Severus would let the death eaters and Voldemort in, and tell them the blonde had turned traitor. Harry knew the house elves and the Professors would fight, that couldn't be helped, but at least the students would be safe.

It was a bitter sort victory, knowing that, but a victory all the same.

There were other things on his mind though. He had done his lessons with Moody, and that had been going well, but he had also met with Dumbledore the past couple weeks, and had learned more about Voldemort. The headmaster had told him of the other going away for several years after he graduated, and how no one had known where he'd gone. Then he showed Harry his memory of the man's return.

He had shown up at the castle to apply for the Defense position, and it had been obvious that he had begun delving into the black arts even then. His eyes had been red, rather than the brown of his childhood, and his skin too pale to be natural. Dumbledore had become headmaster by then, and had seen those signs himself. He had, wisely, denied Voldemort a place as professor, even though it would have helped him keep a better eye on the Dark Lord.

Voldemort had been furious, angry with Dumbledore for denying him, and had ended up working at Borgin and Burkes for a time. During these years, people had begun to go missing; some being customers at his store, others being muggleborns. Everyone had wanted to pretend that all was well, but these had been the first signs of the coming war.

During their last meeting, the headmaster had shown him a memory he said had been very difficult for him to get a hold of, its' owner not wanting to give it up, and Harry had been surprised to note that it had belonged to Professor Slughorn. He had watched the memory play out, listening to the man's words as he spoke to the child Riddle, and had watched the young Voldemort's expressions in a way that Slughorn had not.

The glee on his face had proven to Harry that he had been right, that Voldemort had been born a monster, and when the memory had ended he had fallen from his seat to retch upon the floor. Dumbledore had watched him with severe eyes, and vanished away the mess when he was done, and Harry had sat there on the floor shaking with horror and illness; something deep within him screaming out and raging at the very thought of what he now knew without a doubt had occurred.

For Voldemort, in his insanity and evil, and ripped apart his very soul.

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Poor poor Dursleys, so awkward around magic.

Harry's learned of the horcruxes now. I debated on keeping them in the story at all, but I decided to in the end. There'll be a little more excitement next chapter, finally. Part Two isn't really a very action-oriented part.

All the same, here we are.

I'll see you all next week.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	17. Part Two, Chapter Eight

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! You are all awesome!**

So here we are at Chapter 8 of Part 2. There's actually some things happening here, so let's not waste time with notes.

Onward to the story!

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The small town they went to was old and dirty, and the area they headed was filled with old empty buildings that were slowly falling apart; creaking and groaning warningly as they grew ever closer to collapse. Wool's orphanage was a tall, thin building with broken windows, peeling brown paint, and rotting plants dying around its' perimeter. It seemed to loom over them like Severus during potion class, and Harry eyed it distastefully as they passed, a shiver passing down his spine. He and Dumbledore moved on, not bothering to enter the old building; for which Harry was thankful.

They moved slowly down an old trail. The orphanage was on a cliff, and down the trail was the beach. Harry felt better, near the water, and the smell of the salt air was a balm on his soul and his stomach; easing away the nausea that had begun gathering there. The very idea of what a horcrux was, what it did, and that they were here to retrieve one, made everything he was revolt against the thought. To split one's very soul. To be so corrupted as to blacken the very being of yourself in the quest for more power; in the quest for something as idiotic as immortality, was completely insane. Damning yourself to a half-life of existence (less than that even) ...It was just something Harry could not wrap his head around. He would sooner put his wand to his head and utter the killing curse than he would allow himself to even consider creating such a monstrosity.

And Dumbledore believed Voldemort had set out to create six of them.

Harry shivered.

"It is a bit chilly, isn't it my boy?" Dumbledore smiled down at him as they walked, heading in the direction of the cliffs, where the headmaster believed the cave Voldemort had tortured those children was located. Harry wasn't sure how the old man had come to the conclusion that Voldemort would hide one of his hellish creations there of all places, but it was as good a place to begin looking as any.

"Yea." He didn't need to tell the man that his shaking was from the train of his thought rather than the weather. He wasn't sure how the old man could possibly be so calm and composed now, with the knowledge he held. They kept going, and found a creeping selection of rocks against the cliffside, jagged and flat alike, and visible only because the tide was down. The cliffs themselves towered over their heads and cast shadows that combined with the small fog teasing their ankles to make Harry feel like he was in an old horror movie. Dumbledore moved along them carefully, trying his best to avoid the more unstable or pointed stones, Harry behind him.

Sure enough, they soon came upon the entrance to the cave, and walked in beneath the bits of plants that grew and hung from its' ceiling; all dark and rotting like the dying village above them. It was dark inside, but Harry's eyes could see the full of it. There was nothing there. It was empty, nothing there but dark stone and sand; or it looked that way. His skin itched with the touch of magic, and he knew there was something there, even if he could not see it. He sniffed subtly, careful that the headmaster did not notice the motion, and nearly retched, taking an automatic step backwards.

The room stank of death, like the corpses of half eaten animals he sometimes came upon in the forest. It was like rotting meat mixed with fermenting fruit; as though something had been left to foul and rot and then had sugar poured upon it to try and mask it without success. He took another step back and tried to steel himself, wishing they could leave, but already knowing that Dumbledore had been correct, and thus they could not.

The old man raised his wand, and light filled the cave. It revealed a seemingly empty cavern to the old man, as Harry had already seen, and he wondered if the headmaster could smell what his sensitive nose was picking up or if it was outside the realm of human senses. Either he could, or he felt the magic, because he began waving his wand about and occasionally adding words that Harry thought might be Greek, since it sounded a bit different than Latin spells. Finally a jumble of broken sounds from the old man had the cave lighting up.

A blue shimmer lay in front of them, like a mist, and with a few more spells from the headmaster, and a small blood sacrifice, it fell, and the back end of the cave was suddenly gone. Harry looked, and realized the cave went much farther back. It was dark enough ahead that even he could not see more than a few meters farther than the false end of the cave had appeared to be. Dumbledore raised his wand, lit again, though with a vibrant red glow rather than the blue or green Harry's own Lumos spells usually were, and they went onwards; Harry with wary reluctance and a feeling of duty.

Eventually, the ground ended, and they came upon old wood that was scarred and uneven. It was a dock of sorts, running the length of the cave floor, and beyond that was nothing but black water. It seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness, as though it were infinite. The smell of death was stronger here, and the only other thing Harry would see was an island far off from them in what might have been the center of the malevolent lake. A dull green light pulsed from something in the middle of it, and it was only that which allowed Harry to see the thing at all.

Dumbledore began muttering spells again and poking around near the ends of the dock, and Harry waited. The old man knew what he was doing, and it would be best for the teen to leave him to it. He waved a hand around over the water, and then suddenly he seemed to grab onto something, and made a noise of triumph; though there was nothing there.

"Here, my boy, give me a hand. That's it, just touch where my hand is, you'll feel it." It was incredibly disconcerting for Harry to feel chipped wood beneath his fingers when he couldn't see it. He helped Dumbledore pull on the invisible thing, and the water beneath them shifted. When the unseen structure hit the dock with the thunk of wood on wood, it was as though it flitted into existence, and Harry found his hand was on the bow of a small rowboat with a single double-sided paddle. He waited while Dumbledore cast a few more spells on the thing to attest to safety. "The only charm appears to be one that makes it possible for only one wizard of age to enter at a time."

"So only one of us can go across?" The headmaster chuckled.

"If you were older, yes. But only one of us IS of age. It should hold us both." With that, the man stepped carefully into it, and Harry let the old man use his shoulder for support with which to do so. He followed after him warily, and when the boat held with the first step and nothing happened, Harry settled in and grasped the oar. It seemed whatever spells were on the boat didn't recognize his emancipation as him being of age. "Oh! Thank you, my boy." He nodded in reply, and began to row towards the island. It was more difficult than he had thought. The physical strain didn't bother him much, but it seemed like the boat constantly fought him over the direction. A chuckle from the headmaster at his plight told him it was his own trouble and inexperience with the oar rather than any spell. They were nearly halfway there when Harry hesitated. He was almost positive he had seen something in the water move.

He eyed the black water as they went on, and when a flash of white came near the surface and vanished back in he stopped rowing altogether. Dumbledore said nothing, just sat and watched him with his hands folded genially on his lap. The headmaster likely already knew what was in the water. The teen waited, watching, and then a face appeared near the boat and dipped in again and he jerked backwards from the water with a start, causing the boat to rock a bit.

"There's corpses!" The headmaster nodded, face grave.

"Inferi, my boy. I suspect they will leave us be so long as we do not disturb the water ourselves." Harry nodded, feeling ill, and began rowing again. Inferi were like zombies weren't they? Only bound to some master; whoever had created them. How many were in there? How many people had Voldemort killed just for this? A dozen? Three dozen? A hundred? Had he used them during the first war? An army of dead? Harry stopped rowing when the front of the boat hit the rock of the tiny island, the little thing more like one large slab of rock than a land mass, and Dumbledore conjured a rope to tie the boat to one of the jutting stones near the edge.

They both clambered out, and Harry set his eyes upon the thing which gave off green light. It was a stand, of sorts, like a column, in the very center of the bit of land, with a black basin set atop it. The basin was filled with a deep red liquid that looked almost like blood, but was too dark a shade to be such. Harry's stomach made uncomfortable flops when he looked at it, though it didn't make him feel ill in the way the knowledge of the Horcruxes and the Inferi did. Watching Dumbledore cast unknown spells seemed to have become a new hobby of his, and he shifted from foot to foot as the man did so.

It took him longer than before this time around, and Harry waited patiently, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end as he looked out at the water. Occasionally he would see it move in odd ways, or white forms move beneath the surface. He watched them carefully, becoming steadily more uncomfortable at being in this place, and it took him a moment to realize the headmaster had stopped casting spells. The old man's wand was down at his side now, and there was a very severe expression on his face as he gazed at the stone basin with its' odd not-blood liquid.

"Headmaster?" The old man shook himself and looked at Harry.

"I believe the horcrux is located within the basin, at the bottom, however, it appears the only manner with which to remove the potion and reach it, is by drinking." Harry paled.

"There's no other way?" The headmaster shook his head.

"There is not."

"Is it poison?" Harry looked at the foul liquid.

"Of a sort. It does not kill, but I believe it causes painful hallucinations and burning in the eyes. The effect would only be temporary, however." Harry eyed the potion with something that wasn't quite fear, and moved towards it. A firm hand on his shoulder made him stop. "No, my boy. I would not ask or allow such a thing of you." Dumbledore came up to the basin, and stared at the liquid. "It is best if I be the one to drink. I imagine, however, that the visions will eventually make me wish to stop. You must convince me to continue, no matter what. Even if I should beg you to let me stop, do not. I must drink every drop if we are to obtain the horcrux." Harry's innards did flips inside him, and mixed themselves gleefully with a nasty pit of dread. The teen nodded, not liking a bit of this, but still understanding the necessity.

Dumbledore said no more, and instead kneeled himself carefully before the basin. The man seemed to gather up his senses, and breathed in deeply, before tilting the basin and taking his first gulp of the liquid. He drank three or four mouthfuls before his hands began to shake, and Harry came to help him hold up the bowl.

He began crying soon thereafter, and pulling away to cry out. Sometimes he begged the pain to stop, other times he cried out apologies or names. He spoke of Harry, and Tom, and even Severus. He cried out for Grindelwald, and two others. Arianna and Aberforth. Harry did not know who they were, but he called for them as though they were dead and he wished them alive. He began sobbing, and calling out for water, and Harry hardened his heart and told him the drink would ease his thirst.

Finally, the last of it was gone, and the old man curled himself into a sobbing mess of misery on the ground, looking like a bearded child, and causing chains of guilt and sympathy to twist in merciless cyclones inside Harry's heart. He turned away from the man, knowing he could do very little, and looked within the basin. He had seen it empty, and there had been nothing there then. Now, a locket sat innocently within. He eyed it.

It was a gold thing, rectangular with a twisting 'S' on the front, hanging upon a thin delicate chain. Harry had thought he would feel evil, but he felt nothing from it. It was as though it were not magic at all. He reached out and touched it hesitantly. The barest licks of a charm curled at the tips of his fingers, and he frowned. Was this really a horcrux? Or simply some treasure Voldemort had locked away? He thought to slip it into the pocket of his robes, but instead hid it within one of the gauntlets of his armor. The other held his wand, as they were meant to do, but who was to say that was all they could hold?

With the maybe-horcrux tucked safely away, he turned his attention back upon the headmaster. The old man was unconscious, his face covered tears and snot, and Harry jerked over to him with a spike of alarm. The old man was still breathing, thankfully, and his heartbeat strong inside his chest, but his lips and mouth were painfully dry, and Harry remembered his calls for water.

Apparently, the potion also caused dehydration. He pulled out his wand and cast a small spell to make water. Nothing happened, and he frowned and did it again. Still no water appeared. He had never before struggled with this particular spell, and he attempted it one more time, watching his wand closely. This time he saw how the liquid spurted from the tip, only to vanish almost immediately. He lowered his wand with a grimace. There must be some spell or other that kept people from summoning water inside the cave. He cast about for a solution, and his gaze fell on the black depths.

He swallowed. That water was tainted by death; by the corpses hidden within. He was loath to go near it, or even consider bringing any to his headmaster for fear that it would cause only more harm. But there was no other water, and no way to retrieve any. The only other water nearby was of the sea, which would not be drinken. Wait! He perked up. One of the survival spells they had learned purified sea water. He could do that. He need only get the old man into the boat and sail back across. If he could get him to the beach, he could get him water, and do his best to make Dumbledore well enough to wake.

He needed the headmaster conscious. He had no portkey or the like, and he had yet to learn apparition. That was something Hogwarts didn't teach until seventh year, since you needed to be of a certain age, and he would not even be present then. Without the old man, he had no way of returning to the school.

He nodded to himself, and did his best to gather the old man up in his arms as best he could. He was plenty strong enough to carry the other, but the headmaster was much taller than he was, and between his height and his beard he was very awkward to attempt to carry. He managed to sort of pick the other up, and move him to the boat. He stumbled as he gathered him in, and the headmaster fell into the boat, while his feet splashed against the water.

It was the worst thing he could have done.

A cold white hand latched around his ankle, he pulled from it but the grip was strong and hard like a vice. the hand was followed by the moving body of a woman. She had been pretty in life, with a fair complexion and dark hair, but now she was the stuff of horror movies; her grey skin rotting away from her flesh, her hair limp and wet with balding patches, and her eyes white and clouded with the lack of life. He pulled himself forcibly from her grip, and his stomach churned as the skin of her hand tore away from the festering muscle beneath it.

More followed her, rising up from the water and reaching for him. True fear filled his body then, and he began casting spells at them.

"Bombarda! Defodio! Reducto! Incendio!" The first three had little effect, but the last, producing a trail of flames, was incredibly effective. While the blasting and shredding-like curses only tore into them; leaving them broken but still in motion, as they were dead and felt no pain, the flames burned them and had those untouched jerking back from it. Harry didn't know if it was the heat or the light that pushed them away, but he cast it again, holding the spell as best he could.

They pulled away from him and the boat, and he climbed in beside the headmaster. He was forced to hold his wand in the one hand, and handle the double oar in the other. His rowing was even more sloppy and slow-going than before. He sweat with the power it took to keep the spell going, and then it died out. Immediately the Inferi rushed and clawed at the boat, and Harry cast the spell again, twisting the lick of flames towards them like a whip, and making them back off again.

This pattern continued. Harry would cast, and they would move back. He would row a little farther towards the dock and then the spell would die out and they would rush the boat. Then he would cast again, and the process started all over. The spell took more and more effort to cast each time; draining him in a way no other spells had recently. It was not so high-level a charm that it should leave him sweating and shaking more and more as they went, and he could not understand why it was.

He stumbled badly and fell to his knees when he made it to the dock and climbed out, and only just managed to keep this spell up and drag the headmaster out of the dingy thing at the same time. He pulled the old man awkwardly onto a shoulder, like a sack, and his feet and beard still dragged across the ground. His legs hurt somehow, as though having difficulty holding he and Dumbledore up, and he wobbled as he moved back from the dock. The spell went out, and white hands began latching onto the wood, working to pull the bodies they were attached to up. He made to cast the spell again, and panicked when it failed.

The flames licked from the tip of his wand then sputtered out, and he cursed and stumbled back from the advancing corpses. He carried the old man, tripping and wobbling all the way, to the entrance of the cave. All the way he heard the cold splat of water on stone with every step the many Inferi made after them. He dare not look back and check their numbers or how close they were, knowing such an action may well be his undoing, and instead did all he could to stay on his feet and make it out of that dreadful cave.

He nearly dropped Dumbledore once, and came close to falling into the churning sea when they finally hit the entrance; Harry's movements sluggish. He had only been able to walk quickly, running being beyond him at this point with that strange exhaustion settling in his limbs even as it became harder and harder to breathe. He felt he was drowning as he pulled the headmaster from the cave and stumbled drunkenly over the stones.

He tripped when his shoes touched sand, and the old man fell out of his grip and tumbled into the beach. He lay there panting, his body shaking with exertion. Why had the spell been so hard? How had it done this to him? Was there some manner of spell or curse on the cave that caused such a thing to anyone who dare use a spell effective against the walking corpses?

His vision went dark around the edges, and he heard the sound of the inferi shuffling along the stones outside the cave even as his consciousness fled him.

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It seemed that every time Harry fled the waking world in any manner aside from sleep, then he would find himself waking up to the sounds and smells of the hospital ward. He opened his eyes to the white ceiling, and just lay there. He felt tired. Very very tired. It was worse than after a workout with Dudley or even one of Moody's lessons. There was no soreness in his limbs, at least, though he felt a dull throb in one shoulder. It was the only pain, the rest simply a feeling of intense lethargy.

So he just lay there, eyes on the white roof above him. He could smell the soap used to clean the bed sheets, and the taste of the many medical potions the old healer used drifted faintly on the air. There was faint snores not too far away, marking at least one other occupant in the room, and he could just barely hear the scratching of a quill on parchment from the direction of Madame Pomfrey's office. Likely her door was open, and it was only that and the quiet of the rest of the room that allowed him to hear the sound.

There was no confusion, as often happened when he first awoke here. His eyes opened with the full knowledge of everything that had occurred up until his loss of consciousness. He remembered the little rotting town, the abandoned orphanage, the cave, and the Inferi. Merlin, the Inferi! He closed his eyes with a shudder. He had not dare try and count their numbers then, but looking back now he knew there had been many of them, nearly a Hogwart's house's worth. All dead and rotting and stinking of their own filth and demise. The pale limbs covered in grey flesh barely held to the muscle, and those cloudy white eyes that, looking back, had been unnatural, not simply dead.

He felt bile rise up his throat, and he forced it down and breathed in deeply. He didn't want to empty his stomach now. He had no idea what sort of potions the healer had no doubt put into his system, nor how quickly they worked. There may well be something in his system working to heal his body and throwing it up would only hinder the process. The sound of the curtain made him jump, and he looked to find Pomfrey pulling it all the way shut around him. He hadn't even noticed her come over.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

"Tired, weak... My shoulder hurts." She nodded, and moved over, pulling down his shirt to show him. There was no mark in the armor, but when she pulled it aside it revealed a large purple bruise. When had that happened? His confusion must have shown.

"The headmaster said you were bitten by something. He wouldn't tell me what, but he said he had managed to get it away and kill it before you came to any further harm. If not for this armor of yours, such an injury would have likely been very bloody, and resulted in a nasty wound and a scar rather than just a bruise. As it was, I'm more concerned about the state of magical exhaustion you were brought to me in. You nearly emptied your core." So one of the Inferi had tried to take a bite out of him after he lost consciousness? Apparently the headmaster had awoken in time to save him. He would owe him for that, except that he felt his coming along in the first place and nearly being eaten should more than make up for it. But...

"Magical exhaustion?" She nodded.

"Yes. You must have used some very high level spells against whatever it was that attacked you. What on earth were you doing outside the castle with the headmaster anyways?" He ignored her question.

"I wasn't though. Using any higher spells. The only thing I used was Incendio. I kept casting it, over and over..." She frowned.

"That spell wouldn't do this. Your core should be developed enough to prevent it. Hmm..." She looked down in thought, a hand to her chin. Her lips moved as though she were muttering, though no real sounds escaped her. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she looked at him. "This animagus form of yours, what manner of creature is it?" He gathered himself defensively and she waved a hand, "I'm not asking _what_ it is, just what _kind_ of thing it is. The nature. Is it a burrowing animal, a flyer, that sort of thing."

"It... I'm an aquatic creature, ma'am." She nodded.

"Ah. That might explain it then. Have you reacted badly to fire before now?" He thought of the many fireplaces in the castle, and would have shook his head in the negative when he recalled the time at the Ministry.

"I haven't been bothered by the fireplaces, but last year..." Her face darkened as she understood what he was talking about. "One of the spells cast at me was a fire kind of spell, and the instincts sort of... I got scared and really angry all at once. It was..." Pomfrey nodded.

"Fire and water were never meant to mix. If your connection to water is particularly strong, as it would be if your form was that of a magical creature," She eyed the place on his forehead she knew his horns were located, hidden by the glamour. "then it's likely you cannot cast spells in the nature of fire without great difficulty. Something greater than the spell you did use will likely always be beyond you, and I would avoid trying. You have a very large and strong magical core for your age, and you can take more than a number of adults in the way of strain on it. But if you manage to empty your core, you will still die, Harry." He swallowed, and nodded. "I'm going to write you a note. You'll show it to all of your teachers for me, so they know to not make you learn any spells which create or manipulate flames. We don't want this happening again."

"Yes ma'am." She smiled gently at him.

"On the brighter side, I imagine that such spells which manipulate water and the like should come rather easily to you. It's not all bad, dear." He nodded solemnly.

"Yes ma'am." Somehow, he didn't feel much better about that.

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Harry met with Dumbledore right after that, and had been glad to see the old man in good health. Unaware of the armor Harry wore, the headmaster had looked in his cloak while he was unconscious, and, finding nothing of interest, had assumed the trip had been a bust, and the cave simply a trap of Voldemort's creation. The locket was still locked away in Harry's left gauntlet, and, on a whim, he chose not to tell the man about it.

There was something strange about the necklace, and Harry very much doubted that it was really a horcrux. With no knowledge of what it might actually be, he was loath to hand it over. The magic he felt from it was faint, but it could well still be an important artifact of some sort. If it was, Harry didn't want the headmaster to have it. It was a petty sort of play on his part, but it was already too late to go back and give it up to the old man without revealing his initial trickery. He may have forgiven the headmaster to a point, but he still didn't trust him.

Dumbledore had revealed much to him during their last few meetings, but the wizard still kept things close to the vest, and there was much he had yet to share with Harry. The teen wasn't aware of what those secrets might be, but the thought of them there kept him from confiding in Dumbledore about anything. Between the old man's own secrets, and the ones that Harry had begun to gather up himself, a rift had started forming and growing between them; a gap that could not be bridged so easily.

Thus Harry now sat in the Keeper's tower, looking the locket over very carefully, and occasionally poking at it with his wand.

"Quid es?" The simple charm had the little locket glowing a dull red. It was meant only to check the type of magic surrounding the thing, and the red marked it as a transfiguration, likely a permanent one. So the locket was a transfigured object then. There didn't look to be any other magic on it. It was just a plain locket. "Huh." Harry set down his wand and worked his thumb claw into the pieces of the locket to open it. Why would Voldemort bother with a mundane object? One he had perhaps created, but why? A folded bit or parchment fluttered out once he had wedged the thing open, and Harry hesitated before opening it up, and reading.

_To the Dark Lord - I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. - R.A.B._

Ah. So it seemed that the locket was not of Voldemort's creation then. The nature of the letter suggested that there _had_ been a horcrux, and that the writer was likely no longer living. To have learned what Voldemort had created, and to have gotten close enough to learn about it, suggested a spy, or, as Dumbledore had honestly expected to find a horcrux in the cave, that perhaps the writer had been a death eater gone rogue.

It fit. Being that there were a number of Voldemort's followers who had simply been roped into things, there were likely to have been a few back in the day who would have been looking for an excuse to betray him, and a way to get away with it. This person had known they would die, and had apparently been disgusted enough with what the Dark Lord had created that he was willing to face death for its' destruction. Harry imagined, that if he had ever been foolish enough to join the Dark Lord, only to discover this, he would have done the same.

The question now was whether or not the traitor had succeeded. If they had, and the original horcrux was gone, then there was no trouble. But if they had died before being able to do so, then the evil artifact was still out there somewhere, though likely hidden away. Thus it would need to be found, and destroyed. Assuming the person had transfigured something to look as close to original as possible, then the locket could be used to recognize the real thing.

Harry sighed. The first step to determine if the traitor had succeeded, or not (and if not, where they had hidden the genuine article), was to figure out who this R.A.B. was. He would need to talk to Severus about that. He had yet to tell the man about Voldemort's horcruxes, and he needed to do so. Maybe he could kill two birds with one stone, and the potion master would recognize the initials, if that's what they were. It was worth a shot, at least. For now he tucked the locket and letter back into his gauntlet for safe keeping, and put his wand away. He stood from the desk and stretched, his tail waving lazily behind him, and decided he was overdue for a visit to the lake.

He had come to spending most of his visits there with Moonscale and her husband, the leader of the Black Lakes' merpeople, Bloodsea. He had learned several things about the beings, though the bit that interested him most was their names. Every merperson was given a name at birth, but their name changed as they grew, based upon their actions and personality. Moonscale was called such for her predisposition towards being nocturnal, and swimming near the surface of the lake to look up at the moon. Her minor obsession with the great orb since her childhood had led to her name. Bloodsea had earned his own title before Harry had even been born, when the merpeople had tried to return to the sea. There had been a minor war with another tribe over territory, and though they had eventually lost and been forced move back to the lake, Bloodsea had killed a great number of the others in battle, and thus gained his current moniker.

Harry supposed it explained the number of crisscrossing scars along the merman's tail. He walked through the tunnels in silence, a smile on his face and his tail just barely touching the ground as he moved. Suddenly he paused, and looked down at his tail.

He had felt something. But he wasn't sure what it was. He waited, and the feeling came again. It was like a tremor in the ground. There was movement beneath the stone, maybe a level or more down, and where the pads on his feet were too thick for him to feel it through them, his tail was far more sensitive. It came again, more, and he went down to his knees and put an ear to the ground.

The muffled sounds of words reached his ears and he pulled away. It was Wednesday today. He had only woken up the day before, and the nurse had ordered that he have the week off from his classes to give his magic time to recuperate. It was near lunchtime now, so perhaps the sounds were of students on the fifth floor (the tunnels beginning a floor below the tower) heading off to their meals. He looked back at his tail. He usually walked with it a bit above the ground, because of the sensitivity, but he hadn't realized it was sensitive enough to feel vibrations.

He hummed to himself and moved on. Something like that could come in handy if he were kneeling or standing someplace; hiding or the like. He would know if anyone was coming. His tail offered him a much better sense of balance, but he had counted it off, on the whole, as a burden, because of how easy it would be to disable him completely by attacking his tail. George had accidentally stepped on it once, and that was nearly as bad as being kicked in the balls (a nasty experience he had felt only once at the feet of Piers Polkiss, and which had led to his running away when they came after him from that point on). Neither were experiences he was eager to repeat.

He now understood exactly why that one grey cat of Mrs. Figg's had bit him when he had tugged its' tail as a child.

**Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala lalalalala**

"You have grown, little guardian." Harry smiled. This was a usual greeting from Moonscale. Harry's height, while not that important, was something that tended to bother him. He had gotten taller since the previous year, and was growing still, but he was still shorter than most of the others in his year, bar some of the girls. When the merwoman had realized how much his small stature bothered him, she took to greeting him this way in an effort to make him feel better about it.

"Thank you. How are things?" She smiled at him, the barest hints of sharp teeth being revealed with the expression.

"Things are well. We are preparing for the summer."

"The summer?"

"Yes. We are leaving then. Back to the sea." His heart panged.

"For how long?" Her eyes grew sad and she ran scaled fingers through his hair.

"I do not know, young one. We must leave to protect the hatchlings. The eggs will break in spring, and we need to take our children where they will be safe from those above. Perhaps it will be only a year or two, perhaps it shall be ten. I do not know." Harry twisted his fingers together.

"Where will you go? Where in the ocean?" She sighed.

"That is for my egg-partner to decide. We must find a place that others do not yet call their own. He says we will try to make our nest as near here as we can, but if others call the close seas home, then we may have to go far. He has sent scouts through the under-river to check the nearest waters, but I am uncertain if they have yet returned." Harry nodded. The thought that they might go so far he could not find them hurt. He did not want to lose his friends. "I am sorry, little guardian."

"It's alright. I understand. You need to think of the kids first." He tried to hide the sadness from his voice, but the song-tongue was greatly influenced by emotions, and it showed. Moonscale frowned, and he grimaced. He did not like to upset others or make them worry. Then she looked thoughtful, and grasped his hand.

"Come." She pulled him through the waters, and he let her, confused. She led him to the little building he knew at her home, and brought him down into the under-room he had woken up in that day they fed him the pearl grass. It was just the same as then, with its' seaweed filled alcoves and shell containers lining the walls. She left him near the tunnel entryway and went to one of them, opening and shifting around inside it. He waited, watching her, and she finally made a noise of triumph.

She didn't come back to him yet, but closed the shell and went over to another one, something clenched in her fist. The slight tinkling of glass or the like met his ears as she shuffled through it,

and then she closed it. Her back was to him as she fidgeted with whatever was in her hands. She brought it near her mouth, and made a musical sound that was like a soft whistle. He cocked his head to the side and watched. Whatever she held glowed with soft green light and then faded. Only then did she turn to him.

She swam to him, and settled the thing around his neck. He looked down. It was black twine with a shell at the end. The shell was a small conch with a spiderweb of gently glowing green markings on it. Even as he watched, the glow faded until it was gone, leaving only faint green lines in the otherwise white shell. He met the merwoman's eyes with confusion.

"What is this?"

"It is so you can hear the sea, and keep it and us close to your heart. You need only call to me through it, and so long as you are in water, I can find you." Harry looked at the little miniature conch, and wrapped a hand around it. It was small enough that it would just barely fit over his ear, and he could close his hand around it and hide it from sight. He swallowed, and looked back up at Moonscale.

"I... Thank you." She smiled, her sharp teeth looking as feral to him as they had the first time he had seen them, but seeming beautiful now rather than dangerous.

"You are welcome, little guardian. You are most welcome."

And Harry didn't feel so bad anymore.

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The next night the teen found himself in the forest at night for the first time since the previous school year. He had avoided the woods and all they held; not ready to face Firenze again, and be forced to hear the centaur's words. There was something very disconcerting about having someone tell you something you didn't like, not believing them, and then learning they were right. The being had once said he would need to find his own place in the war, and that it would not be with Dumbledore. At the time, he had yet to be disillusioned with the headmaster, and his loyalty to the old man had made him unbelieving.

Now he was starting to understand what the creature had meant, and he had been afraid to come into the forest until now; afraid of whatever else Firenze might tell him. But the end of the school year was only a couple months away now, and it was time to face the being, and the knowledge he held. So Harry waited in the clearing from before, and stared at the sky.

It was so beautiful. All the stars and planets that looked like starts from here. It was as though someone had taken a fistful of gems and shattered them, and then scattered the sparkling dust across the sky. Some shone, some twinkled, and all were breathtaking. He did not need to be any good as Astronomy to see the wonder in this.

He didn't move or look away when he felt the ground shift, or heard the crunch of grass beneath hooves. He just waited, and the large form of the centaur came and settled beside him. He looked up at the being to find it was not Firenze, as he had believed.

He studied the unknown centaur, and the other watched and did the same to him. He was dark haired where Firenze was light, and bearded where Firenze was shaven. His eyes were dark and wild, and his coat was black with speckles of grey. His countenance was rougher than the other centaur's, more wild-looking, with a broader nose and a stronger jaw. His face was blank though hard, another marked difference from Firenze's typical calm and soft expression. Harry recognized him as the centaur that got angry at Firenze in first year; or rather he looked similar to that one.

"So you are the one who calls my brother from our herd to the world of men." His voice was a deep baritone, and it was loud; like a clap of thunder in silence.

"Firenze is your brother?" The centaur snorted.

"We are all brothers, each of us from the Earth."

"Ah." The centaur watched him, studied him, and Harry felt like a bug beneath a microscope.

"I thought him a fool for troubling himself with the affairs of wizards, such horrid creatures as they are. Yet you are no wizard. Perhaps you were born such, but you are such no longer."

"It was an accident."

"There are no accidents, child. Only fate. Whether that fate has been marked by the passing of the stars, or formed by your own hands, it matters not. You became what you have for a reason." Harry tilted his head, listening.

"Perhaps so that I can be strong enough to kill Voldemort then. Maybe this was what needed to happen for me to be able to." The centaur snorted and sneered.

"You would kill the black snake one way or another. It would have come to pass even without this, though your death may have been a consequence, before." He waved a hand at Harry's arm, presumably his scales. "No. This is for another purpose, for something not yet to come."

"Like what?" The look the centaur gave him was not quite a glare, but it was intense like one.

"I do not know." The being looked up to the stars then. "Or perhaps it is better said that I do not understand. The stars speak that you are to walk beside gods, and yet such a thing... It is not possible."

"Gods?" The teen's brow furrowed, and the wild centaur shook his head.

"I imagine you will not know until it occurs. Such is the nature of the stars. They tell us much, but often we do not understand their meaning until their predictions have already come to pass." Harry nodded, and they watched the sky quietly for a while, Harry's brain churning with questions. He bit his lip.

"What's your name?" The centaur looked from the sky to him, and his expression was not quite as harsh as before.

"I am called Bane."

"Bane... I'm Harry." The centaur nodded. "Is there nothing you can tell me? Nothing I need to know?" Those dark eyes studied him again, for several moments.

"I know only that you will face hardships, and that your life shall be a full one, but only so long as you keep to the path of your choosing, and follow your heart. It is said to many to do such a thing too much, but only because they do not listen. Never allow others to shape your journey, even if it should seem the safer trail to go. Such ways lead only to pain, for you. You are no wizard, and your nature is that of freedom. Freedom to choose. Hold fast to that freedom, and never let it slip from your grasp. There is no better guide for you, than those instincts which you have come to possess." His words were intent, and there seemed so much more he wanted to say. It felt to Harry as though the centaur was trying to tell him more and couldn't or didn't know how to.

The teen took his words in and committed them to memory. The being was not the same centaur he had come to know and trust (albeit grudgingly), but he felt older and wiser, and Harry knew he would never let himself forget what he had been told.

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Well there you have it. Next chapter will be up next week, and then we will have a small recess before Part 3 begins. This just means that rather than a week, it will be two weeks between chapters.

Part 3 rushes into some things, and has a lot going on, and it will be within that part that we will start to see the crossover; if only through the meeting of Harry and Bruce. A bit sooner than you might have thought, no? All the same, Part 4 is where we really move into things; starting with some travelling and then getting into the events of Avengers, with the events of Iron Man 1, Iron Man 2, and Thor being mentioned a bit (I think. We'll see what happens when I type it up, because my fingers tend to put whatever the hell they please on the screen). I'm thinking of moving into the events of Iron Man 3 after the Avengers plot has been completed, and then Thor 2, since the story should still be ongoing then, and I will hopefully be able to see it; if not through the theater, then through my sort-of-father-in-law's propensity towards semi-illegal downloading of movies.

I have a question for you all. I've had a good number of people bug me about parings from the start of this, and so far I had made the decision to keep this pairingless, but I've never really asked any of you for your take on it. Even though I rarely have time to respond to reviews, I do read them, so I have a question for you all.

Do you think there should be a pairing, or not, and why?

I will say, that if I decide to do one, it probably won't come into development until after the events of Avengers, and I'm likely not to do one at all, but I want your take on it. Keep in mind that I'm not asking for your thoughts on any specific pairings, but rather whether or not you think any form of romance would be a good addition to the story or not, and whether a male/male or male/female pairing would be preferable, so don't talk about how this Harry would be good with someone in particular.

Now that I've asked that, I think we're done for now, so I'll see you all next week.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	18. Part Two, Chapter Nine

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and to everyone who responded to my question!**

It's almost six in the morning here right now and the sun is just barely coming up over the horizon. Hopefully you lot have an appreciation for my updating at such an early hour.

Wow. Just wow. Nearly all of you had something to say regarding my question on your thoughts of pairings.

There was quite the divide between those of you who thought I should or shouldn't include romance, and whether or not the pairing, if there is one, should be male/male or male/female. For the most part, the arguments for or against certain genders were unanimous.

Many of you prefer male/male pairings, or believe that Harry would work better with a male Avenger than another character, or were concerned about the female character options being limited.

Those of you who showed a preference for a male/female pairing, were more concerned with me falling into overdone plot-devices, saying that this particular area of crossoverdom tends to revolve almost exclusively around male/male pairings, with very few instances of Harry being with a woman.

There was, however, one person who mentioned that because Harry is more animalistic, that it would be more realistic to pair Harry with a female, as homosexuality is uncommon in the animal kingdom. To this person (I'm sorry I can't recall your name), I have to say that homosexual behavior has been noted and documented in over 1,500 various animal species, ranging from primates, to worms.

Beyond that, there were two major concerns regarding a male/male pairing as opposed to a male/female one. These issues are, in my opinion, interconnected. There were a few of you who expressed concern about Harry being made 'girly' or a 'wuss' if paired with a male, with the assumption of him being the submissive partner, and there were a couple of you who expressed your dislike for male/male pairings as a result of the often unrealistic representations of such relationships by people who are not gay males themselves, and thus have little knowledge of how such relationships actually work.

I'm gonna go on a bit of a rant about these issues, so bear with me.

First off, I've put a lot of effort into developing Harry's character. This Harry started out self-conscious and a bit of a loner, was thrown into the influences of the water panther's instincts, and has slowly grown stronger and more confident, and will continue to do so. By the time we hit crossover, Harry will be independent, but comfortable working in a team, and willing to depend on others. I'm not going to change him into a woman with a penis if I pair him with a man. Relationships always alter a person's character and motives, but they don't suddenly make you into someone else. This Harry will not become completely different just because of a relationship.

Besides that, my self-given title of Mr. Hate, is fully indicative of my actual gender. I'm a man. Plain and simple. I'm also bisexual, and have been with men and women throughout my time, and so I have a much better understanding of a male/male relationship, having experienced such myself, than, say, a teenaged girl writing a male/male story. That isn't to say that the girl in question won't write a wonderful and compelling tale, but realism comes best from actual experience, something that a girl wouldn't have in regards to this situation.

Because of my own experiences, realism isn't a real concern here. Beyond that, going back to the worry of Harry being made 'girly'; this brings to mind a bit of a stigma that has always bothered me. There is always a sort of preconception that a man who willingly 'takes it' is less of a man than the one 'giving it', so to speak. I've always hated this notion, because it's a lot like when you say all women are bad drivers, or even the more positive, all Asians are smart. It's not true, by any stretch of the imagination.

Firstly, most gay relationships don't have a cut and dry 'bottom' and 'top'. In most cases, the two people switch off, at least occasionally. Yes, most people have a preference for whether or not they want to be the aggressor or the submissive party, but this is something that can easily change with the mood. Beyond that, there are such things as submissive tops, and aggressive bottoms. It's not black and white, there's a lot of variation.

Secondly, submissive in the bedroom, doesn't mean jack outside of it. A lot of those same men who liked to be tied to a bed and given no control, are very controlling in other areas of their lives, and will be the one most likely to take the lead outside of that private environment. You can rarely tell who is in what position and has what preferences just by looking at a couple. That big muscly dude with the beard and equally muscly and tattooed lover probably don't conform to your idea of submissive and aggressive, and you will never know for sure, because private time is just that; private.

If I choose to put Harry with a man, it doesn't mean he'll be the 'bottom' or the 'top', or a switcher, or even that you'll know about it. I don't plan on writing sex scenes, and, if I do, I won't put them here.

Rant done, it should be said that a number of you, on the other hand, are quite happy with the thought of no pairing at all, and are concerned that a romance would take away from the overall plot and story that you have thus far come to enjoy.

There was, however, a common theme to many of the review responses to my question. The majority of you seem to have a lot of faith in my writing abilities, and were clear in your belief that you will continue to enjoy the story no matter what direction I choose to go, regardless of personal preferences, so long as that direction isn't forced.

You guys rock, I hope you know that.

Going back to your concerns, lot of the arguments made sense. Unfortunately, those of you who expressed concern about limited female options, are, mostly, correct, though you seem to forget that there are more options than you think. For instance, many of you thought the choice would come between Natasha, Pepper, or Maria Hill. However, there is still Darcy, and Jane, if I wanted to break up her and Thor, and there is also the Asgardian, Sif. Beyond that, there are still HP girls to consider. Harry could be paired with Daphne, Luna, or some other, not-so-well-known character. Then, of course, there is the possibility of my including more of the Marvel-verse than just the Avengers, which would mean any of the female mutants could be an option.

Now, aside from that, there are the males, of course, but, once again, I could choose to go a more, less-done way than you usually see in this particular area of fanon. I could, once again, pair him off with someone who is not an Avenger, like any of the warriors three, or one of Loki's kids (if I include them), or Nick Fury, or, going into Marvel-verse again, any number of male mutants, or even Peter Parker; who would be close to Harry in age.

Then, of course, you have to consider my ability to make OC's. I've actually been considering making a female character to be added onto the Avengers team, because Natasha being the only woman in a group of men has always made the whole thing seem a bit sexist to me.

There are a lot more options to consider than just the Avengers and the main players in the Avengers movie.

As for the worry about the romance overtaking the story, I admit, that's part of the reason I've been a bit worried about including a pairing thus far. However, I think my fear of a romance overtaking the story would help me to avoid just that, because I would be more likely to downplay any such thing in order to avoid that.

That said, I still haven't decided anything, and so, I think we will just see where my typing fingers take us.

Thank you all, once again, for your reviews, and your answers.

Now, onto the chapter.

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Yea."

"I think we're good."

"Remember, it will feel uncomfortable. You might lose your balance when we land, and you might feel nauseas. Did you eat anything?"

"No."

"You told us not to."

"Good. Hopefully you won't throw up then." Harry smiled in a way that was meant to be reassuring, but probably looked more like a grimace. None of the three smiled back.

He studied them as they grabbed hold of the golden ring. This was Seamus' family. They were muggles, all of them. His mother had been a witch, but she had left years ago the teen had told him. So he had only his father and stepmother, and his half sister. The boy's Irish heritage obviously came from his father, with his broad form and reddish brown hair. His stepmum was small and petite with short brown hair, and his sister looked like a miniature female version of the Gryffindor, though with darker locks.

This would be the ninth family, aside from the Dursleys, who Harry would be transporting to Bogdon. The others had all settled in well enough, or so it seemed, though he knew that none of them felt the castle was home. The elves had done their best to make everyone comfortable and welcome, and had made sure they all had regular meals; whether they ate in the dining hall or their own private rooms.

"Alright. You all ready?" They each nodded, all gripping tightly to the ring and their luggage, Harry himself holding onto a few bags for them. "Okay. Here we go. Gringotts." The world spun and they were all hooked through a twisting tunnel and spat back out into the snow. Harry only just managed to stay on his feet, having slowly grown used to portkey travel with the many times he had done it lately. He still wobbled dangerously and flailed his arms to stay upright though. The only one of Seamus' family who managed to remain upright was his stepmother. She wobbled and blinked rapidly, looking a bit ill. HIs father was flopped backwards in the snow and his sister was on her hands and knees looking rather close to ridding herself of whatever was in her stomach, despite not eating.

He helped them both up, and made sure they were alright, and then led them into the castle. The little girl shivered in the cold and then sighed once they were inside, the warming spells the elves kept up making it feel like walking into a building with the heater turned up. Bogdon Stronghold was located in one of those parts of the world that snowed more of the year than not, and which was cold even when it didn't. The highest temperature of the year, in the middle of summer, was something around 20 degrees Celsius (68 degrees Fahrenheit). It was always cold. For Harry, whose accidental nature made unbothered by extreme temperatures, it was nothing, but for a normal person, like the members of Seamus' family, it was unpleasant. The cold had been the one complaint he had gotten from those here thus far, though they were only subjected to it if they ventured outside.

"Kreacher!" A pop had the elf appearing, and the muggles stared at him with wide eyes, not unlike the way they had stared at the goblins when the twins had brought them to him at the bank.

"Yes master?"

"Could you please escort these people to some of the empty rooms, close together, as usual."

"Yes sir." Kreacher waved at them to follow him, only the barest hint of a sneer on his face, and they did so with a look at Harry who gave them a nod and a smile. He watched them walk off a bit, and then turned away to go looking for his family. Vernon often hid away in his room, though Harry sometimes caught the big man exploring, and Dudley could be anywhere, but he was usually able to find his Aunt, who had taken up the habit of reading in the library. She understood well enough that she could never be a real part of the magical world, but she seemed to enjoy learning about it all the same. Her past bitterness had faded more and more with time, and Harry had a feeling that his bringing her to such a magical place and allowing her access to such knowledge had something to do with that.

He had begun moving the keeper's books into the smaller library in the dungeons, his own room right next door to it; having been fashioned from renovating one of the smaller storerooms. The room and bathroom were smaller than most of the other quarters, but he was happy with it. His only rule for the people he had brought here was that they were to remain on the ground floor and up only, and he had warded the dungeons extensively to ensure they listened. Or rather, he had had the elves do it, and he had added various protection runes and a muggle-repelling charm. It wasn't the safest bit of work, hardly Fort Knox, but no one magical enough to get past the repel charm had bothered trying to disobey the rule yet anyways.

Sure enough, he found his Aunt sitting in the main Library in a comfortable chair, and a large book in hand. The cover was plain black, with no writing, and he didn't recognize it. That didn't mean much though, since he hadn't looked into the books in the main library much, although he planned to do so later on so he could make a catalogue of them like he had done with the Keeper's books. He flopped down into a seat near her, and she closed her book with a smile to look up at him.

"Hello Harry. Back again?" He nodded.

"Just for the day. I'll be leaving before dinner. I want to make it back to the school then so I can make it to the great hall. The more meals I spend there the less suspicious people get about not seeing me the rest of the time." She nodded, her grin a bit wider. He had learned not long after bringing them here that his Aunt appreciated honesty very much. Like him, she didn't like to be left in the dark. Harry wondered if his mother had been the same way or not. Perhaps it was something they had inherited from one of his grandparents.

"Ah. So you'll still eat lunch with us then?"

"Yea."

"Good." He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry. I'd come around more if I could..."

"It's alright. I quite understand."

"What are you reading?" He asked, deciding to change the subject before they devolved into one of those awkward silences that seemed to always happen when he spoke with the woman. They had been getting better, being able to go into longer and longer conversations before it got to that point, but it always ended up that way.

"Hmm? Oh. I wasn't reading at all actually, just looking at pictures." Harry perked up.

"Pictures?" She nodded.

"Yes. It's an album; belonged to my mother. There's some photos in here of me and your mother when we were young. I saved it when we left home but I hadn't been able to bring myself to look at it until now." She ran a hand across the cover and Harry bit his lip.

"I... Can I...?"

"Hmm? Oh! Yes of course!" She shifted her chair closer to him and he scooted to the edge of his own seat. They were close enough now that their knees almost touched and she spread the album open and out so that it lay half across her own leg and half across his. "Here. This one is us, when we were just little ones." The photo was old and frayed at the edges with the colors duller than a more modern picture. In it were two little girls, both smiling, and one with red hair that was vibrant even in the dull photo. They were just shy of toddlers, and dressed in the sort of frilly dresses one was likely to put a child in for pictures. His Aunt was grinning in the picture, showing off several missing teeth, but his mother scowled at the camera, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout that made him chuckle. "She never did care to have her picture taken." His Aunt commented.

The turned the page, and on the next two were more pictures, smaller ones now. On the first of the two pages were three baby pictures, even duller in color than the one in front. One held a tiny baby in a dress that looked up curiously at the camera, the tiny lick of red hair on the top of the otherwise bald head proving it to be his mother. Her green eyes looked darker than they really were in the picture; almost brown.

The one below it was his Aunt. She wasn't looking at the camera at all, but was rather more concerned with the teddy bear in her tiny hands that was larger than her head. The baby had a fuller head of hair than his mother had as a babe, though brown in color, and was focused intently on trying to fit as much of the little bear's paw in her mouth as she could.

The third was the both of them again, looking at each other, with the baby-Aunt Petunia grabbing onto her sister's nose and making the baby-Lily scrunch her face up in an annoyed manner. Harry grinned. "We were always close when we were little. Our parents had us one right after the other. I was born first, right on schedule, but Lily was two months early, so we were only seven months apart. Mum used to tell me that people thought we were twins because I was so small. Oh that's her there. Her and your grandfather." She pointed to the next page, and Harry's eyes glued themselves to it.

It was a wedding photograph, with his grandmother in a beautiful white dress and her hair done up in curls, his grandfather beside her in a suit with an arm around his wife. He studied them, having never before seen a picture of either. He could see where his mother got her hair from. His grandmother's hair was a fiery red that looked unnatural in its' vibrancy, but wasn't. Her eyes were a warm brown and she was so very beautiful; gorgeous even. She looked out from the photograph with a wonderfully joyous smile, one hand holding a bouquet of blue and white flowers and the other resting on her flat stomach in a way that suggested their reason for marrying. She leaned into his grandfather easily, her head on his shoulder, as he was notably taller than her, and the blush on her cheeks telling of her love for him.

He looked at his grandfather then, suspicions curling inside him about his heritage at the sight of the slender man. His suit was proper and well done, and he looked down at his wife in the picture with eyes that looked green, though the fade of the photo made it difficult to tell. His hair was cut short and slicked back, and was a sharp blonde. He had a strong jaw, broad shoulders that should have looked odd atop his thin form, and long limbs. He looked remarkably similar to Lucius Malfoy in regards to his facial features, and Harry was certain the man must be some close relation to the pureblood.

"What were their names?" He found himself asking, still staring at the picture.

"Cain and Samantha Evans. I don't remember Mum's maiden name, I think it started with an 'S' though." Samantha was such a plain name for such a beautiful woman, Harry thought. Cain was a bit old-fashioned though, enough to make him more suspicious. The man must be a Malfoy, some way or another.

"How did they meet? Do you know?" He wasn't sure why he asked, but curiosity burned at him. He wanted so badly to know about his family, his heritage, where it was he had come from. His Aunt smiled indulgently at him and nodded.

"Mum told me they met at a club. Not the sort you see nowadays mind you, but the old kind. She used to sing at one, while people ate and drank and the like, and she said the first time she saw him he came into the place to have a drink at the bar. She got up to sing and he watched her, and didn't take his eyes off her all the while. There was a dance floor there, and when the next band came up after her, she said he came up and asked her to dance. She used to get lots of offers back then, with as pretty as she was. Mum said she always turned them down though, and did the same to him. He came back the next day and asked again, and he kept on asking every day she worked there until she said yes." Harry smiled.

He could imagine it in his head, his grandmother, young and beautiful, dressed and glammed up on an old stage and singing, and his grandfather, watching from the bar, drink in hand, mesmerized with all the other blokes who had likely been interested in her back then. If he had really been a Malfoy, as Harry suspected, it probably would have been the first time he had ever had anyone say no to him about anything.

"It sounds like a fairytale." He commented. His Aunt nodded.

"It was, or so she always said. I remember watching them sometimes, when we were little. They were so in love." Her voice sounded sad, wistful, and Harry caught on to it.

"What happened?"

"Daddy died. I was maybe six or so. He worked in a factory then, and there was an accident. After that it was just the three of us for awhile, until your mother made friends with that boy. Sev something or other. Then she was always off with him, and it was just Mum and me, until she passed too. I had just turned eighteen then. I remember being so angry with your mother, because she wasn't there. I screamed at her when she came for the funeral. Mum had been sick, you see, and I was always taking care of her while Lily was off at that school of hers and then getting married. I felt cheated I suppose." Harry looked back down at the picture. "I understand now that she was fighting that evil wizard of yours, but at the time... I just thought she had abandoned us for magic."

For the first time, the silence that followed wasn't awkward, and when they finally broke it, they spent the next hour just looking at pictures and talking, and Harry finally learned more about his family, even if he was left with so many questions. At least now he had faces and names to match to some of the people he imagined in his mind, and he understood his Aunt a little better.

He just wished he knew more.

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Harry settled into Gryffindor tower that night with a sigh. He was sleeping here again, because of the feeling that currently permeated the Keeper's tower.

He had brought the fake locket to Severus, and the man had, in fact, recognized the initials on it. Regulus Arcturus Black had been a death eater, and Sirius' brother. He would have been Harry's uncle, if he had lived. He hadn't though, so far as anyone knew. Severus had been very disconcerted about the knowledge regarding the horcruxes, and it had only been the taking of an anti-nausea potion that had kept him from emptying his stomach upon learning about it. They had discussed the topic at length afterwards, and then let it go. Until Harry had more information from Dumbledore, there was very little he and the potion master could do.

Still, the knowledge of who it was that had left the fake locket and betrayed the Dark Lord somehow made this all the more personal to Harry. His uncle, who Sirius had always believed bad and evil and talked down upon had been a man with good enough morals to give his life for the sake of having a hand in Voldemort's death. He was another member of Harry's family to add to that list, along with Sirius, and his Mum, and even James Potter. And knowing who it had been had led to Harry recalling some of Kreacher's past mutterings. The elf, in the same breath as calling Sirius a blood traitor had also compared him to his younger sibling.

This remembrance had led him to calling on the elf, and asking if he knew anything of what his old master had done, and learning that he had. Regulus had in fact left the real locket with Kreacher, asking him to destroy it, and the elf had been unable to. At one point, one of the seedier members of the Order had tried to steal it, and the old elf had hidden it away. He willingly handed it over to Harry when the teen promised he would find a way to destroy it so that Kreacher's last order from his old master could be fulfilled.

Now the thing was hidden away in the Keeper's tower, locked in a small box with all manner of curses on it and several of the twins' locks, a couple of them being custom order ones. Harry had been right when he thought a horcrux would feel evil.

It felt more than evil. It felt toxic. There was no smell, but Harry would compare it to one. To the smell of something dead and rotting and left to fester in a pile of filth, worse even than the scent of the Inferi. It was like a cloud of noxious gas hung around it just waiting for some poor fool to breathe it in and die. There was no real smell or look or anything to it that suggested this, but Harry could feel it. In his bones and his magic and his soul. He could feel the blackness of it.

He couldn't sleep in the Keeper's tower with the feeling of the thing hanging around the place like a cloud. There was a fear in his heart at the very thought, as though the artifact would somehow infect his very dreams make him rot too.

He shuddered and rolled over, trying to push the thoughts away and sleep.

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The next two weeks brought with them great stress for Harry. He had suffered through more meetings with Dumbledore, including the man telling him he was dying, the headmaster having done back to the place where the cave was, or rather to the orphanage, and finding another horcrux. He had already broken it, a black stone set into a gaudy ring, and had left the ring itself, now free of evil, in Harry's possession for whatever reason. The teen wasn't sure why, but the blackening of the headmaster's hand, and the ill look to his face made him decide not to question it too greatly. The ring was now hidden away in his trunk.

During the weekends he brought eleven more families over, and he had only this next weekend with which to bring the last of them, Voldemort planning his attack for the last week of the year. This of course, presented an entirely new issue, that being Draco not having completely fixed the vanishing cabinet, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown as a result.

"I just don't know what to do anymore. I've tried everything, and I've nearly got it, but the cabinet just won't make the connection, and if this doesn't work then all the plans we've been making will be for nothing." Harry sighed.

"Do you want help? I could take a look at it."

"What could you do?" The blonde snapped. They were in the halls, walking towards the great hall for lunch. The other Slytherins had run off, and Harry had found himself left with Draco, the stress of the current situation clearly getting to the Malfoy heir. Harry tried to keep his tone pleasant in spite of his minor irritation.

"Well, I could see if the problem has anything to do with runes. I'm good with them, and it _is_ a complicated magical artifact. I'm not exactly a master, but it would be better than leaving you to figure it out on your own, wouldn't it?" Draco flushed with guilt.

"Right. Sorry. I just-"

"Yea."

"Yea." The blonde sighed. "Alright. I'll show it to you, if you want." Harry nodded.

"After lunch then?"

"Sure."

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Harry had never entered the part of the room of requirement dedicated to hiding things. Not once. For all the times he had used the room, he had always had other places to hide things, and so there had never been a need.

It was incredible. There were all sorts of things. Piles and piles of mundane objects like quills and parchment, and then stranger things, like a twitching golden owl cage and an odd statue that looked like little more than a creeping blob. There was furniture of all shapes and sizes, and books. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books that had the teen's fingers itching to grab onto. The place was filled to the brim with every manner of magic, all kinds twisting and swirling around one another and making Harry dizzy.

Then of course there was the vanishing cabinet itself. A tall intricately carved thing that looked to be a hundred years old and made from a wood so dark it was nearly black. It was pretty really, the sort of thing you would expect to see in the mansion of some sort of royalty or aristocrat that sat unused in some corner somewhere collecting dust. Harry ran a hand along the front, the wood smooth, either with age or because of the craftsmanship, and did his best to focus on the magic that came from it rather than the magic that came from the room and its' other holdings.

Draco watched him silently, his hands twisting nervously together and his feet shuffling a bit. The magic of the cabinet was darker than 'normal' magic, but not by much. Harry compared it to a darker shade of grey. He hummed to himself and opened it up, stroking every inch of the interior in the search for runes. He found some, eventually, in the center of the back and had to use a magnification charm on his fake glasses, and then a lumos, in order to see them clearly. The ones here were small, and well done, and he eyed each one carefully.

Most of them were fine, the forms clearly defined; carved into the wood as they were. But there were a couple that had worn down with time, and while they hadn't yet lost their power, they were weaker than they should be. Harry reached into his leather jacket, and pulled out the dagger that Draco had sent him for Christmas.

"I gave you that."

"You did." Harry pulled it from the sheath.

"I didn't know you kept it on you."

"I've always got it. Moody says it's good to have a backup weapon of some sort, in-case you lose your wand or have it taken, and he's right. It's a fine blade, besides." Draco said no more, though Harry was certain that if ever a silence could feel smug...

He dug the blade carefully and deliberately into the wood, re-carving the runes with delicate precision. The dagger was really too big to have been meant for such work, but Harry was very careful. It was slow going, for the simple reason that he wanted to make no mistakes, and nearly ten minutes had gone by when he was done. He put a hand to them and pumped in a small bit of magic once he finished, and the markings glowed a soft blue in response and then faded. He smiled, pleased with himself.

"Is it fixed?" Draco asked impatiently.

"Not yet. There should be more runes somewhere."

There was. Harry found more runes on the back of the thing, and he fixed those the same way as the ones on the inside. They were damaged the same way, through wear, but he was confused. Such a thing should have made the connection weaker, and the travel between one cabinet and the next more uncomfortable, but it did not explain why it had ceased working entirely. Draco watched him in a mixture of amusement and worry as he studied the inside, exploring the top and bottom of the opening extensively, and then standing on a box to look at the top of the cabinet itself. There was nothing. Harry stood back and bit his lip in thought, looking at the cabinet as a whole.

It was just as beautiful on his second study as it had been on his first. There were intricate carvings along the edging of some sort of twisting plantlife, and the designs spread from the top down all the edges to the legs of the thing that held the bottom a bit up from the ground like a low table. The bottom!

Harry kneeled down and put a hand underneath to feel along the bottom of the cabinet. Sure enough, his fingers grazed across the rough indentation of some carvings. He lay down on his back and shimmied underneath, reapplying the magnification and the lumos. The runes here were in even worse shape than the others. The wear and tear was more intense, as though the others had been maintained while these forgotten, and there were two runes that had been almost entirely wiped away.

It took Harry a minute of study to ensure that he knew what runes they were before he dared to begin the repair, shifting about a bit on the uncomfortable stone floor and sneezing as dust got in his nose. It took him longer than before; being even more slow going since he not only had to carve deeper but also had a very limited space within which to move his arm. Nearly half an hour later he was finally done, and groaned as he shifted out and popped his arms and back.

Draco had, at some point, moved to sitting on the floor, and he looked up at Harry questioningly. The teen smiled at him, and then kneeled down to apply the needed magic to jumpstart the thing. All the runes glowed now, and the inside shifted in such a way that it now looked as though there were another set of doors inside. He waved a hand at it with a grin, and the Malfoy heir stood and went over to crack open a door and peek through. He closed it and then the main doors and smiled at Harry in a sort of bittersweet way.

"It works! Thank you." Harry shrugged.

"Whatever you did to fix it made it possible. If there had been other things wrong with it then just repairing the runes wouldn't have worked." The blonde nodded and looked back at the cabinet, grin leaving his face.

"They can get in now." His voice was dead, numb almost. "All I have to do is send word."

"No. Severus has to send word."

"... Right."

"Feel better now that you don't have to worry about it?"

"Not really... I mean..."

"Yea."

"Yea." They both shifted awkwardly. "I... Thank you Harry." The teen shrugged.

"It was nothing, anyone who knows a bit of runes could have-"

"Not for that." Harry stopped. "For... Well, for everything else." Harry stared at him a moment, and then nodded.

"You're welcome." The blonde rubbed an arm, looking uncomfortable.

"I... I should probably go tell Sev about this." Harry nodded.

"Okay." Draco nodded and then shuffled towards the door without another word. Harry watched him go and listened to the door as it closed after him.

He sighed to himself, and looked over at the books. A grin found its' way onto his face as he moved towards them. There could be all kinds of knowledge in those. He bumped a table as he passed with a bust with a tiara on it. He cursed and caught the bust as it wobbled before it was able to fall. All the motion dislodged the tiara slightly, making it lay diagonally across the face rather than perfectly atop the head.

He sighed, glad he had kept the bust from falling. It looked pretty old, and there was no telling how much it was worth. He reached a hand out to right the tiara and froze, hand barely an inch from it. His eyes widened with panic and he jerked backwards away from it, tripping and scrambling for balance. Several other things fell around him with thumps and crashes as he lay sprawled on the ground. The bust wobbled and fell, shattering into many pieces while the tiara landed on the edge of the table.

It rolled and fell off and then roll around and around in a circle until it settled with a ringing like a spun coin. He barely noticed the rest of the chaos, his eyes fixed upon the tiara. It was a pretty thing, with diamonds and little sapphires all along the crown of it, the thing itself a shining silvery metal. But the feeling of evil and death that he had felt from it once he had been close enough proved to him that its' appearance belied its' true nature.

Harry had just, entirely by accident, stumbled upon another of Voldemort's horcruxes.

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The discovery of the horcrux, while bothersome, was a boon. Harry now had possession of two of Voldemort's supposed six horcruxes, and only need find a way in which to destroy them. The ring was no longer a horcrux, having been destroyed somehow by Dumbledore, and the headmaster had confessed that he believed the diary Harry had destroyed in his second year had been another. That left only two to go. The problem would be figuring out what they were, and then finding and getting hold of them.

He could work for that during this next year. He had memories in his mind of the Dark Lord's life, books of lost knowledge at his disposal, Frode the portrait with his ability to look at things outside the box, and a (relatively) stress-free environment within to work. He could figure it out. Certainly.

Still, right now he had other things to worry about. This year had possessed only normal, end of the year exams, so there was nothing important to worry about this last week scholastic-wise. But there were plenty of other things. Harry rushed to pack everything up, including all the books he had kept behind, his important things, the map, and, of course, Frode.

"Must I travel locked in this box?"

"It's a trunk, and yes. I've got no other place to put you where you'll be safe. Besides, it'll only be for a little while. I promise I'll unpack you and put you up on the wall of the library as soon as we get there."

"Yes, but how do you know you're leaving today?" Harry sighed.

"We're not, but I don't want to have to be worrying about you tomorrow when I've got to be focusing on keeping the other students safe from the death eaters invading the castle."

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten about that. Are you certain this is the best course of action?"

"Not really no, but it's the one that means the least number of deaths." The portrait nodded solemnly.

"War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all; but I do not love the sword for its' sharpness, nor the arrow for its' swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."

"That sounds like a quote." Frode gave a mischievous smile.

"Perhaps it is. Quotes are naught but the words of wise men passed down through the years to our ears. There is wisdom in them. I wish you luck in this, little one." There was that name again. _Little One_. Just as the first time, it made something in Harry pain, and he nodded at the painting without another word, shutting the trunk on top of him.

Harry made sure his robes were packed away as well, so that he wore only his usual clothes and the jacket atop the armor. He tucked the shell necklace into his shirt and put on the gloves and boots Luna had gotten him. He sat down and tied up the laces, and then stared down at his hands, and made a mental checklist to make sure he had gotten everything. He had the Marauder's map, the invisibility cloak, his wand, and the dagger from Draco on him. All his things were packed and locked up in his trunk, sitting by the door and ready to be shrunk and tucked in a pocket. The horcruxes, all the books, Oddball and Metis had been brought to Bogdon last weekend with the last of the families. He had the evil artifacts locked away in the second level of the dungeon, the books all on shelves or still in their boxes, and his pets were resting in his room.

He had sent Hedwig off to the twins where she would be safe. He had bought a couple nondescript owls for the purpose of sending letters if he needed to. He felt badly about it, but Hedwig was too noticeable, and everyone knew that Harry Potter's owl was a white one. So it was best this way. She had a letter with her for Fred and George to pass off to Mum and Dad so they would know he was alive and safe.

All the rest of his affairs were in order, and, so far as he knew, the Lord and Lady Malfoys would be sneaking off from their current locations to the meeting place sometime tonight. Everything was ready. Knowing that, Harry shrunk his trunk and tucked it into his jacket, and made to leave the keeper's tower. He stopped at the entrance and turned back to look at it one last time, now bare of all but the rugs and furniture. It still looked nice and homey, and he smiled. He missed Hogwarts the way it had once been for him, but he would never miss the place it had become. This part of it though, this he would miss. This tower with all its' memories of Fred and George and his learning and discoveries with runes and everything else. He altered the tapestry before he left. No one but him would ever be able to get in now.

It was for the best. So far as he could tell, the tower was the only way into the tunnels or the rune-room. But the runes there were old and complicated, and too much of the knowledge had been lost. Still they were in good shape, magic keeping them well protected from any of the wear and tear the cabinet had suffered. A few more decades and it would be filled with water, and it was safer that way. No one could truly destroy the castle if they could not first find that room, and so Harry would guard his knowledge of it carefully.

The footsteps of his boots hitting the stone echoed through the empty halls. It was almost past curfew, but that hardly mattered. He was only going to an empty classroom up here, since they could not meet in the room of requirement anymore, and there was no one of consequence on the seventh floor. He reached the room without fuss, and entered. There was a large group assembled inside, and they had been chatting, but went silent as he entered. Some had bags in their arms or slung over their shoulders and all were dressed and ready. He marched to the front of the room and stepped up to the front of the room, turning to look at them all. This would be the first time since he had begun supervising that Severus would not be present and watching from some hidden place, there to make sure that all was well and the teen was making no mistakes, and Harry felt strangely nervous at his lack of a presence.

He looked out at them all. All the D.A. was present, not just those who would be leaving, and, total, after the few who had graduated last year, and the Patil twins' deaths, there were twenty four members, plus the twelve students who were not members but would be leaving with them. He watched them all carefully, studying every face and posture, some students standing and others sitting, and feeling a great weight settle on his shoulders.

He was responsible for these people; for their lives. It was up to him to ensure they made it out of all this with their lives, and without harm. He felt honored and burdened all at once, and there was this little voice in the back of his mind screaming that he was only a teenager, barely more than a child and that this was a job for a military leader, for a general or an auror, not a kid- He silenced it. There was no time for doubts now. It was true that this was not a job for a teenager, but he had been stuck with it, and he could not cast off those shackles now."

"This will be the last time we will all meet until this war is over." They all listened carefully to him. "Some of you will be leaving with me, and others will be staying. But this is the last time we will all be together until everything is said and done. For those of you who are staying, I thank you. There is no way that words could ever express the debt I owe to you for remaining here. Do what you can to protect the younger students; the first and second years especially. Keep them safe, and away from the death eaters when you can. No one is to ever be alone in the halls. If you have to go somewhere, you go in a group. Three at the least, not just two. Stick together, but never meet in the room of requirement again. Voldemort knows about that room." The tiara could attest to that. "So you cannot hide here, and it is not safe to meet, not even elsewhere. If you need to speak to another member, do so by sending a note from person to person. If you need to contact me, do so through the coins. Don't send an owl if you can avoid it, and don't get caught. If you think you might get caught, swallow your coin so they don't find it. We cannot be discovered." They all nodded, faces hard and determined. Harry compared them to children playing soldier, and had to hold back a bubble of hysterical laughter. When he had himself under control, he continued.

"Do as they tell you. Even if it's something humiliating, just do it. The more you listen to their orders and cooperate, the less likely they are to hurt you. I don't know if they will let you return home for the summer, so send your goodbyes tonight if you must. Don't fight them. Don't play the part of hero. The last thing I wish is for any of you to be killed. I know that none of you like this, but this is the best way to keep everyone safe. For those of you who are coming with me, I am sorry that you must be uprooted from your homes, but I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from harm. Your families are already there and settled in, and they will be waiting for you when we go." He glanced at Draco, the blonde being the only exception to this, and the Malfoy heir nodded, looking queasy. "Those of you in the D.A. who are going, I will need your help, if you are willing. There are plans to be made, and things to be done, and I cannot do it all alone." Those he addressed nodded. He nodded back and went to continue.

He stumbled, many of the others on their feet doing the same, as the room shook and a boom sounded from somewhere not too far from them. He caught himself and looked up, his eyes meeting Blaise's.

"They're early." Harry cursed. Must his luck always be so horrid?

"Everyone staying get to your common rooms! Sneak down the back staircases! If you're going, stick with me and don't make a sound. Move quick and quiet and keep crouched to the ground!" Everyone scrambled to do as he said, and he shushed those few who cried out. D.A. members shuffled out of the room and headed out at a near run. There was an alcove on this floor with a staircase that led down to the fifth floor, they would be fine if they stuck to it.

Harry and those coming with him needed to get to the keeper's tower though to use the floo there. That meant either going past the room of requirement or taking the long way. The latter would be better except that it would lead them past the main staircases, and the death eaters would be headed there.

"Dissillusion yourselves and keep silent!" He hissed. Everyone rushed to obey, the D.A. members working to cast the spell on the nonmembers who didn't know it. Everyone cluttered together and behind Harry and he cast a tethering spell on them. The places they were in fuzzed and shifted as they felt it take hold but no one said a word, knowing to follow his lead. The spell was simple, and created a sort of invisible rope to tie them all together. It would keep them together even if they couldn't see each other well. He crouched and snuck across the ground. He turned the corner, and the entrance to the room of requirement was revealed to them.

It was chaos. There were at least three dozen death eaters all shooting out spells in what seemed like every direction. Harry was forced to move to the side as a stray spell came towards him. They were fighting against what looked like the suits of armor in the castle, and... Were those the house elves?

They were. All the little creatures were blasting at the death eaters with their own brand of magic, and a number of them wielded large knives or frying pans. Harry swallowed. They were contained mainly near the side of the hall closest to the room of requirement. Harry moved to the other side and flattened himself against the wall, still crouching. He looked back and eyes the shifts in color and air that marked the others, only moving on when he was sure they were all doing the same.

He crouch-walked forwards, keeping as low to the ground as he could while still being able to move quickly. They slipped into the thick of it, sometimes forced to duck their heads as spells came too close to them. Harry stopped and covered his head as a spell shattered the windows overhead and made glass rain down around them. When it was over he moved even more quickly. The noise of the battle drowned out the sounds of the glass crunching under their feet, and as soon as they had nearly made it past the house elves Harry moved up to his feet and into a run; the others forced along by the magical tether.

The kept the disillusionment up as they went on. Several spells headed towards them, the lot of them moving too quickly for the charm to do well and some of the death eaters spotting them. He heard someone cry out and the tether tugged. He looked back. One of them had become visible, losing concentration on the spell as a curse hit her arm and sliced it open like a knife wound. She was small, the youngest of the lot and just a second year. Harry turned around and ran to her. She looked up at him with terrified blue eyes and he picked her up, holding her against his chest like a child, and turning to continue running.

He dodged a few more spells as he went, holding the girl close, and then they made it past the next corner. Harry barely slid to a stop before the tapestry, and he pumped magic into it while hissing out the password he had set. It opened and he set the girl down and cancelled the tether.

"Inside! Hurry!" Everyone rushed in, the charms on them falling and making them visible again. Draco helped push the others through before heading in himself. Just as the last made it through someone called out.

"It's Potter!" Harry turned, the sound of his name, however false catching his attention. He should have ignored it and run inside the tower.

A wall of flame approached him quickly and terror made the world slow down, his heart locking into his throat as the fire approached; he could already feel the heat of it on his skin. He didn't have his wand out, and he threw up his hands, knowing already that it would do no good but unable to help the instinctual reaction. Magic sprung from his fingertips, wild and as green as the killing curse. It swung out, vicious and frightened, slamming against the flames like a wave against stone. The fire was flung back towards whoever had sent it and they screamed as it engulfed them.

Harry froze there, breathing quickly and eyes wide, staring at the charred corpses in a state of shock; the sickening scent of burning flesh filling his nose while the taste of bile rose up in the back of his throat. Someone pulled him from behind and the wall closed up in front of him. He shook, and was hardly aware as he was dragged up the stairs. People were talking all around him and calling out, and someone yelled above the rest.

Harry was shoved into green flames and the world spun away.

**nanananananananananananananananananananananananana nananananananananananananana**

Muahahahaha! Behold my evil power as a writer!

Ahem. My apologies.

Well, now Hogwarts has been left behind (a bit abrupt, wasn't it?), and we are finally beginning to get some answers regarding Harry's mother's parentage; though likely not from the source you were expecting. Believe it or not, I actually wrote out an entire family tree for this Harry, following the Black line back as far as Rowling included, and then farther through the use of (was it Greek or Roman?) gods and their children, going off of Licorus Black (the oldest canon-mentioned Black) being the name of a mythological god, until I had reached the grandfather of the dead OC, Chronus Black. There's quite a bit there. You all would be surprised how much work and research I put into this story…

Now, since the reply to my last question was stunning, and varied, you all now have me curious about your thoughts on even more things, so I'm going to ask another question.

Since I mentioned it in my beginning Author note (cough, Rant, cough), I'd like you all to tell me your thoughts on including other Marvel-verse characters. I've been thinking about it for a while, since it always seemed strange to me that Spiderman, or the X-Men, were never mentioned or involved in stopping the alien invasion (and besides that I just think the thought of Wolverine going about kicking alien butt is awesome). But what's your take on it? Should I include other Marvel characters, or not, and why? If you feel the need to mention a specific character, present an argument for why that character in particular would be a good addition, or should be excluded. I'll probably include a handful regardless of you lot's take on it, but I want to know what you think, all the same.

That said, er, asked, we are now going into recess while I type frantically in an effort to ensure the continuation of regular updates in the future. I will see you all in two weeks for the start of Part Three.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	19. Part Three, Chapter One

**Thank you, both to everyone who reviewed, and everyone who has stuck with this story!**

Hurray! We're back! Sorry about the late-in-the-day update. I've been sick lately, and I didn't even realize it was Friday until dinner was over.

We are officially moving into Part Three. I have a lot of editing that I've done, and need to do, on this Part. There were more than a few things that I wasn't so happy with, when looking back on what I originally wrote. That said, this part is never going to be perfect (but what is, really?). All the same, hopefully you will all either be happy with it, or interested enough to suck it up and read.

Before I get to the responses to last chapter's question, I need to make a response to GreenT, who did not log in for their review. I apologize for the way that I phrased that. I meant no disrespect for women, or for those who are transgender (especially as I am friends with people who are). I only meant that people have a tendency to make Harry very feminine, to the point where it seems as though they are trying to make him female. I meant no offense, so I apologize profusely for that. I suppose I didn't think over my phrasing very well when I typed that.

Now then, onto the question.

Like the one about pairings, there was quite the mixed take on whether or not I should include any other Marvel characters.

Some of you are ecstatic about the thought of me including more of the Marvel Universe, and some of you are, apprehensive, at best. I won't really go into it as badly as I did with the pairing question, but I will tell you now that this is, unlike the pairing, something that I have actually come to a decision on.

I will include more Marvel characters; however, I intend to keep the number relatively small, as I am unsure how well I could handle a surplus of characters. My handling of the HP world is proof enough of this, given that, as we go, you'll see the HP world more and more pushed aside in favor of Marvel. There's just too many characters for me to juggle, and still be able to focus on the plot.

Now, I have to go into something for a second, so bear with me.

Joss Whedon, god of all things he sticks his awesome fingers into, has made a lot of plans where the Marvel Universe is concerned. Iron Man 3, which I recently saw, was epic. Next will be the next Thor Movie, then a new Captain America, taking place in modern times, obviously, and then we will see Avengers 2.

The main villain for Avengers 2 is a robot called Ultron. As such, and with the implications of Thanos at the end of Avengers 1, this implies that there will likely be an Avengers 3, possibly with Thanos as the villain. For Avengers 2, we are likely to meet the character Wasp, and her counterpart, Ant Man, has his own movie scheduled to take place after Avengers 2, though we won't see him during that movie, despite the fact that, in canon, he was the creator of Ultron. The Scarlet Witch is also expected to make an appearance in Avengers 2.

Taking into consideration that I've no clue who Joss will choose to play their characters, or how he will depict their personalities, should I include any of these three here?

Beyond that, I intend to, at least temporarily, stop writing once we are done with the events of Thor 2, if the next Marvel movie has not come out by the time we get there. Would any of you want me to continue with the Marvel Universe after that? Stopping, and then, after a time, as new movies are made, continuing on with the story? Would you want to see more from this story at that point? Even if there might be months between where I stop and where I begin writing again? Or would you prefer I just say 'The End' and be done with it?

Don't really know what I want to do yet, but I want input from all of you, since, at the least, it's nice to have second opinions, if only to help me figure out what I genuinely _want_ to do.

Now then, I'm done, so let's get on with it.

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Harry was spat out of a vortex of green flames onto cold and unforgiving stone. The pain of impact jarred him some, but it wasn't quite enough to pull him from the shocked state his mind had undertaken. Hands gripped his arms and pulled him to his feet. He got a sense of many people around him as he was shuffled into a room.

"What happened?"

"-don't know-"

"-magic went wild-"

"-never seen-"

"-scary-"

"-came early-"

"-hurt, is everyone-"

The voices washed over him like the swell of the tide at the lake when it washed against the pebbled banks. Another set of hands took him from the others, and he was pulled against a man's chest. The smallest hints of blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, and the chest he was against vibrated as the man keeping him on his feet spoke out. Harry couldn't hear what he said, but his voice came out strong and sharp, and the other voices all fell silent at hearing it. He had a vague understanding that the man was barking out orders, but he was so far away, slipping under the water of the lake.

There were the sounds of pops, and Harry felt the number of people grow smaller and smaller until there were only a few aside from himself left. He tried to pull himself from the depths of the water, but his magic was too strong. It was an angry sea, crashing against him and dragging him under; suffocating him. He couldn't breathe, but above the water was the fire, consuming the death eaters and rending the smell of burnt flesh into the air and he shied from it.

The water was drowning him. Where were his gills? He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't-

The sea pulled him under, and the darkness pressed in as he descended.

**tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata**

Harry awoke with a shuddering gasp and shivered. His eyes flew around the room, and, as the understanding that he was alone graced him, he closed his eyes and groaned, running a hand over his face and trying to loosen the tightened muscles in his shoulders. Unable to sleep any longer, he slipped from his bed and slipped away.

Bogdon Stronghold was a fortress. It stood tall and strong, its' dark grey stones standing out proudly against the white snow that surrounded it in a violent contrast. It was old and its' outer walls were scarred and pocked with the marks of sieges long past; each scar proof of the ability of the stones and wards to protect those within. It was smaller than most castles, but also stronger, the magic that kept it safe more unforgiving than the wards of most such places and the stones larger and thicker than could have been lifted without magic.

He slipped through one of the halls of the place which had become his home, and into the confines of the small dungeon library.

It was not just home for him, but also for eighty-four other people, including the Dursleys, and twenty four other students and their families. Twelve of those students were members of the D.A. Harry sighed. Or rather, they _had _been members of the D.A. But there wasn't really a D.A. anymore; with Harry and some of the members stuck here, and the rest not even capable of meeting for fear of being caught and killed.

Still, no matter his fears for those left behind, and the unknowing first years that would be coming at the beginning of the school year, there were still seven dozen people who would not die or be harmed at the hands of Voldemort, or any other death eater, because Harry had gotten them away. He sat in the small dungeon library, now the home of all the keeper's books, and firmly told himself that this was a good thing even as guilt churned in his stomach at the sight of the Daily Prophet in front of him.

**FIFTEEN STUDENTS KILLED IN HOGWART'S ATTACK! **

_By Andy Smudgley_

_Fifteen students, two teachers, and the headmaster lost their lives this past week during a direct attack on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by death eaters. They were reported as being older students, who attempted to defend the school alongside the professors. Contact from the school has revealed that many house elves also lost their lives in attempt to defend the castle from the intruders._

_The most notable death was that of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, who was killed in the process of protecting those students unfortunate enough to have been in the halls at the time of the attack. He and the other professors, including Septima Vector, and William Morris, who were also killed, are reported as having brought down as many as twenty seven death eaters in their efforts to defend the school._

_The students were not released upon the eve of summer, and it is unknown what fate awaits them. There has been only minimal word from Hogwarts thus far, and it is unknown whether or not any of the students will be allowed to return home sometime in the near future. Word has also been leaked that several students were marked as missing at the time of the attack, including one Harry Potter._

_Has our saviour abandoned us? Has he fled? Or has he been killed by You-Know-Who? Only time will tell. For a list of names regarding those students who were killed, please turn to page 8._

Harry didn't dare look at page eight. He felt guilty enough about what had happened, and he knew that putting names to those numbers would only make it worse; especially so if he recognized any of the names. It was bad enough to know that Dumbledore and Professor's Vector and Morris had been killed despite all the preparation that had been done to prevent death. He had expected that the headmaster might go down; knowing that the man had been dying already and would have protected the school to his last breath. He had never liked Professor Vector, but she had been a Slytherin, and he had begun to learn there was usually so much more depth to them than the surface showed you. Then there was Professor Morris...

Harry ran a tired hand down his face. Professor Morris had, easily, been his favorite professor (aside, maybe, from Severus). The man had taught him so much about other cultures and spells, and how to craft his own... He had learned a lot from him, and his greatest regret about planning his leave from the school had been in knowing he would not be able to attend the last of the man's classes. He and the others had worked so closely with him in Spellcrafting that he had become more a friend to them all than a teacher, and knowing he was gone forever made Harry's chest ache; perhaps not so badly as it had upon Sirius' death, but the pain was still very much present.

He folded the prophet up and walked away from it, going to stand before the only wall of the place that was not covered in shelving. This was occupied instead by the map from before, overlaid in its' pins of various colors; those numbers now including some white pins to mark the actual homes of everyone in the castle, rather than just the Longbottom, Malfoy, and Zabini properties; which he had been given official leave to use as needed. He picked up one of the red pins, having been using them to mark attacks, and eyed the place he knew was, approximately, where Hogwarts was located. They had all been living in the castle for close to a month now, and he hadn't been able to mark that spot before.

He swallowed, took a deep breath, and determinedly stuck the pin to the map. He stared at the spot, expression hard and thoughts churning chaotically through his mind like a tornado. He had been... unbalanced ever since that day, and while it had faded some, it had never really left him.

That magic he had used, that churning power that had flew from him and pushed back the fire with enough force to flash-fry the two death eaters on the other side of it, like an angry tidal wave, had never been anything he had seen or felt before. Harry was in tune enough with his own magic to know the feel of it, intimately. His magic was like a rock. It was strong and firm and unyielding inside of him...

Or it had been. Ever since he had become an animagus, something had changed. But that change had stayed beneath the surface, waiting, and he had disregarded it for the most part, until now. That day they had escaped the castle, that changed magic inside of him had snapped whatever bindings held it back and rushed to the surface and it had been that which had protected him without conscious thought on his part. It had been wild and fierce, and so different than his usual magic that using it had sent him into a state of shock. He had remained that way for nearly a full day afterwards, and then he had gotten ill.

He had been sick for over a week with a raging fever and his magic churning inside in him like an angry sea as the newer, strange magic attacked and destroyed his old core. Blaise and Seamus had looked after him during that time, both being the most skilled with healing spells out of the old D.A. members, and had done a damned good job of keeping him alive. They told him they had been forced to tie him down when he started screaming and thrashing about as though he were in the throes of a night terror. His magic had been going crazy, and when, finally, it had settled, Harry had returned mostly to normal.

Except for his magic. That small changed part had washed out the old magic completely and taken its' place, and the first time he had tried to cast a spell after waking from the fever had not ended well. He had woken in a room on the ground floor which had been converted into a makeshift infirmary of sorts, and it had been dark. He had found his wand, and tried casting a lumos, and the spell which was supposed to act as little more than the equivalent of a flashlight had created a bright ball of light that flooded the entire room like it was daytime before going off with a 'pop' like an exploding light bulb and had blinded Harry for nearly ten minutes.

His magic had been misbehaving even further since then. Even now he could feel it sparking along his body like static electricity and swirling about with his emotions like the sea beneath the rays of the moon. He knew, without being told, that this was the chaos magic of the Mishipeshu, but for the life of him he could not understand why his magic had changed to this (being that such a thing should have only happened in his other form), especially now of all times. He could control it occasionally, but other times he couldn't, and his plans for making himself ready to face Voldemort had been reduced to relearning how to use his magic properly.

How could he even think about facing Voldemort if half his spells blew up in his face?

More than that, he hadn't been able to see any of the ghostly inner animals since he had woken, and he had been unable to find any explanation, either for his having possessed the ability to begin with, or how he had lost it. He was sure it was just another thing that had come about because of his magic misbehaving.

Harry groaned, feeling a headache coming on, and wondered when those had become so common.

**tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata**

Harry tugged at a lock of reddish brown hair uncomfortably.

He wore one of the disguise bands he had made before, though this particular one had been the twins' idea. He hated it honestly, and much prefered the one that he usually used, with its' minor alterations, blondish hair, and brown eyes. That one felt comfortable, and not like walking around in someone else's skin the way that this one did.

The reason this particular disguise was so uncomfortable for him, was because it was female. Where short, but otherwise average Harry Potter/Black once walked, there now was a tall and thin female with reddish brown hair down to her back and annoyed black eyes. He had made this one so there wasn't enough chest or curves to make him freak out too badly if he happened to look down at himself, but it was still undeniably a woman, designed from a combination of his Aunt and his mother, and he hated it. He felt his skin crawl like there were spiders on him anytime anyone so much as glanced at him.

There was, however, no denying the effectiveness. His usual glamor made only very minor changes and let him blend in well, but it was close enough to his original appearance, that if he accidentally caught someone's attention and they looked too closely, they would grow suspicious. This form, on the other hand, was so completely different from his real one, that a person could stare at him the entire time he was out and not uncover who he was.

It didn't work well here though, since he was in the bank and the goblins could see through it just fine, but when he went out into the Alley in a bit to visit the twins and see what they had heard it would prove to be a lifesaver, considering that every death eater and his mother was currently on the hunt for him on Voldemort's orders. He followed Grimrok into their usual meeting room, the lack of Sirius' leather jacket beneath his grey robes and the wearing of flat womens shoes rather than his normal boots only serving to make him even more uncomfortable. At least he could still wear his own clothes and armor under the robe, since no one could see them.

"Welcome, Lord Black." Grimrok grinned at him with his sharp teeth and a glint in his eye that looked undeniably amused. Harry kept his tone civil even as he glared at the creature and sat down; trying very very hard to ignore the absent feeling of some parts of himself which were rather important to him.

"Thank you, Grimrok. I understand from your letter that some business has come up?" The goblin nodded, grin still in place.

"Yes. The recent death of one Bellatrix Lestrange has recently brought something up. Usually this would not be an issue, but we have received letters from her husband contesting the usual response." Were his eyes not currently black they would have darkened with the mention of Sirius' murderer. He still had no regrets about killing her, even with the blood it left on his hands.

"What about her?" The goblin caught on to his icy tone, and sat straighter, dropping the grin for a more professional expression.

"Bellatrix Lestrange was, before her marriage, a member of the Black family. At the time of her marriage contract being formed, an account was set up for her by the head of the family at that time, to contain her dowry. Usually the money would have been moved to her husband's account after the wedding, but he let her keep it, and she continued to use the account in place of a personal vault. A dowry vault is meant to be returned to the initial family upon the death of the bride, if not done sooner, since, while the contents may belong to the husband, the vault itself is the property of the bride's family." Harry nodded. "Had they simply removed the money within, or left it untouched, the same would happen here, and the initial dowry would be moved to her husband's vault, however, since Mrs. Lestrange used the account as she would a personal one, and deposited money and artifacts into it, her husband is contesting that the vault not be returned to the Black family."

"Is he aware that I currently act as Lord Black?" Harry asked, resting his other hand on the one with his signet ring and running a finger across the stone.

"No."

"I see... Does he have a legal right to contest the return of the vault?"

"I'm afraid that's a bit of a legal grey area. By law, the vault is to be returned, and only the dowry given back, but as her next of kin, Mr. Lestrange has a right to any and all properties owned by her, and, at least until she placed them in the vault, the money and artifacts would have fallen under this category." Harry nodded.

"So the vault is mine, but the stuff in it isn't?" The goblin nodded hesitantly.

"That's the grey area. Legally speaking all current contents of the vault other than the dowry are to be returned with the vault itself, but under normal circumstances a bride would never have added anything to the vault, so we are... a bit at a loss of how to go about this."

"I see..." Harry thought about it. The goblin had said artifacts. There was no telling what sorts of dark objects the witch had hidden in that vault, and her husband was just as devoted a follower of Voldemort as she had been. Letting him have the vault and anything in it would be the same as handing it over to Voldemort, and even if there was nothing but money, that would mean funding towards the evil wizard's schemes. "So... Do I have a right to say what gets done with the vault?" Grimrok nodded.

"At this time, as we are uncertain of any other options, yes."

"Could I see it? The vault?"

"Of course. Right this way, Lord Black."

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Harry loved riding in the Gringotts carts. He had loved it since that first time he had come to the bank. He imagined that it was not unlike a roller coaster, though he had never had the pleasure of riding one. One day he would, and then he would be able to compare it properly. Still, the trip in the cart, however short, being that Bellatrix' vault was not so far down, helped to lighten his mood some, given the otherwise serious and upsetting situation; it doubled also, to distract him from the glamour he currently wore.

Harry had the smallest grin on his face that faded almost as soon as he stepped out of the cart, but he tried to focus on how wonderful the ride had been rather than who it was who had used the vault sitting before him. The door was smaller than the ones for his own vaults, and he stared at it as Grimrok wobbled up with the key. It opened with a creak that was loud and obnoxious enough for him to have to force himself not to cover his ears, and it was dark inside. Grimrok waved a clawed and stubby hand even as he stepped forwards, and the cavern within lit up.

There were the usual piles of gold around him that adorned many vaults in the bank, with the occasional item set on top or thrown to the ground. It was messy and disorganized, and Harry looked carefully at everything that wasn't a coin. There was a painting covered in a sheet and tossed haphazardly on its' side, some silverware and fine china that had been handled rather carelessly, a wardrobe of some sort that was empty within.

Some books caught his eyes, and he read the covers. He had seen the same tomes in the library at Grimmauld; simple books on the dark arts that hardly mattered; considered 'basic' material as they were. There were other things, randomly thrown about. Some looked old, some looked sentimental. There was a handful with a touch of dark magic to them, none of which were all that powerful. Harry didn't think there looked to be anything of much consequence until something black caught his eye.

He went to look; curiosity moving his feet for him. Atop a pile of galleons and a smattering of sickles and knuts was what looked to be a sword. It was half out of the sheath and had a fine layer of dust over all of it. He reached a hand out, and felt with his magic before he touched it. His magic obeyed him in _this_, thankfully, and while he felt magic, it wasn't particularly malicious in nature, so he grasped the handle in one hand, and the sheath in the other, and pulled the blade the rest of the way out.

He had never really seen a blade like this one (though, to be fair, the only blade not for cooking or potions that he had ever seen in person was Gryffindor's sword). The handle was rounded, and topped on the end with a ball of metal. The guard was vaguely diamond shaped, and the blade itself was just longer than his arm. The top end curved a little like those swords they had in old asian movies Dudley liked to watch, but that was the only similarity. The part near the guard was angular, and then the blade thinned, before widening again and then tapering to the point. It was well crafted, and painted black, or made of something black, that didn't shine. There was also a small, thin groove all along both sides that Harry knew from his experience with butcher knives in the kitchen was called a blood groove. He had heard it said that the purpose of such a thing was to make it easier to pull out a blade when you stabbed something, but he doubted that, as the theory of it serving to lighten and strengthen a blade seemed more likely to him. There could, he supposed, be some magical use also, that he didn't know about.

"What is this?"

"It looks to be a scimitar, Lord Black." He jumped a little, having nearly forgotten about Grimrock, and turned to look at the goblin.

"A scimitar?" He nodded.

"It's a type of sabre; a Middle Eastern muggle blade. This looks like a bit of a bastardized modern version, since they are usually thinner and don't possess a groove, and I've never seen one with a black blade, but it's of a similar make." Harry nodded, and held the sword out in front of him. There were no lightening charms on the thing, and the weight of it felt good in his hand. It was different than holding his wand, but the warmth there reminded him of it. His strength kept his arm steady, and the blade didn't shake or wobble. He brought it closer, eyeing it again, wiping off a bit of the dust, and then looked at the sheath.

It was simple and not so well made, whereas the sword looked to be of a fine quality. Some sort of canvas cloth wrapped about in hard and worn leather with a couple extra straps near the top; one of them with the same simplified version of the Black Crest stamped or embossed on it that was engraved in his signet ring. It flexed a bit in his hand when he squeezed it, and he slid the blade inside carefully. He held it in his palms, and nodded to himself. He continued to look around him then, carrying the sword with him, and tensed when, near the very back of the vault, familiar black magic tugged at the edge of his senses.

It emanated from a cup, a handcrafted illustration of a badger curled in a ball on the front of it that was surrounded by a decorative golden line. It was simple white aside from that, with a handle like a teacup though it was larger than a normal one. Harry glared at it. It figured, considering that Voldemort had left one horcrux with Lucius Malfoy (if Dumbledore was to be believed about the diary), that he would leave one with Bellatrix also. It was dumb luck that he had found this one, something that seemed to have marked his discovery of most of the others, and he had a nasty feeling that the last of them would not be nearly so easy.

"Grimrok."

"Yes, Lord Black?"

"Could you get me something to put that in? Something to grab it with also. It would be best not to touch it." The goblin eyed the cup he pointed at, straightened up with a scowl, perfectly able to feel the magic that came from it (now that he was looking for it), and nodded.

"Will that be all?" Harry hummed.

"I want everything else taken from here. Have it all distributed between my other vaults. Leave however much was put in here when it was still a dowry and let Mr. Lestrange have that, but take the rest." The goblin grinned in a way that was nearly evil, and nodded.

"Of course, Lord Black. I think that should fall perfectly under our legal duties."

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Diagon Alley was practically deserted when he finally left the bank, the sword under an arm and wrapped in a thick roll of cloth to disguise what it was, and the horcrux in a thick leather bag that only just kept Harry from feeling the evil of it, though the thought of carrying it around in this manner made him slightly nauseous. The sooner he could get back to Bogdon and lock it up with the others, the better.

Many of the Alley's shops had been boarded up, now out of business. The more used ones seemed to still be running, though many of the windows had dark curtains on them, and the doors were locked, with signs saying that customers needed to knock first before they would be allowed entry. Harry passed by Knockturn Alley as he headed down the street, and someone slipped out and down the way, wrapped in a thick cloak and and moving quickly. He glanced down the darker alleyway and noticed that many of the stores there looked the same as ever, though there appeared to be more people than there was in Diagon.

Apparently, having an evil maniac slowly taking over the magical United Kingdom was good for business. He continued down, and had to stop when he reached the twins' colorful shop and hold back a laugh. It looked the same, except that the door was wide open, and there was a large sign overhead that said 'come right in' with smiley faces drawn on it. Harry walked in, and looked around with a grin.

The shop was just the same as the first time he had come, and he felt happy to see that there were actually customers inside, albeit only a couple, and that they had smiles on their faces. He recognized Lee at the counter and smiled.

"Hello there, ma'am, need help with something?" Harry held back a grimace, only now remembering the glamour, and forced a polite smile.

"Yes, I'm here to see Fred and George. Are they in? They should be expecting me." Lee eyed him suspiciously.

"Um... They should be in the back, just, let me, uh-" He slipped into the backroom hesitantly, and Harry wondered if he had ever made the mistake of trying to go downstairs. He waited patiently, and Lee came back after a minute, the twins right behind him. They both paused outside the doorway, looking him up and down, confusion on their faces. He raised a hand, and shook it, showing off the glamour band, and then wide leering smiles appeared on their faces. Lee backed away with an almost scared look on his face, and Harry stifled a groan.

"Harri_et_!"

"Our dear, _girl._"

"Welcome." They came at him with open arms and he tried to keep the smile up for Lee's sake even though it probably looked more like a grimace at the moment.

"Right this way my _Dear_."

"Just back here my _Lady_." They dragged him into the backroom and as soon as the door closed he dropped the smile and glared at the both of them with dark eyes.

"I swear to Merlin, one of these days I'm gonna get you for this." They just laughed and he only scowled more. He let them drag him upstairs, knowing from past experiences that once they latched onto him there was no point trying to walk on his own.

He found himself pushed into the same armchair that he had used the last time he was there and the time before that, and so on. He glared at the redheads as they settled into their couch across from him. He tore the band off with a muted snarl and sighed in relief as the glamour lifted away like a cobweb under a vanishing charm.

"How've you been then?"

"How's everybody you spirited away?" He sighed and settled the bag into his lap with the sword laying across it, noting to himself how much more comfortable it was to sit when he was aware of his 'boys'.

"I've been alright. There's a lot to do. Right now I'm stuck mostly researching. Everyone else is doing okay. Mostly. It was hard for them, getting uprooted, but most of them have settled in by now."

"Researching? You mean the, ah," Fred paused.

"Yea. I found another one, too. There should only be one left now." George grinned.

"That's good right?" Harry shrugged.

"It is if I can find a way to destroy them. Right now, most of the spells I've tried bounce right off." There was also the problem of his magic misbehaving, but they didn't need to worry about that. The thought of telling anyone left him feeling oddly... Shamed. As though he had been caught with his pants down in a broom closet. "There's only a few books I've found that so much as mention the things, and nearly all of them just say that they're _nearly _indestructible but don't actually give any examples of _how_ to destroy them. Being _almost _indestructible means there's a way to do it, but..." Fred nodded.

"You haven't found anything yet?" Harry shook his head.

"Well... Dumbledore always thought the diary was one, and I destroyed that one with the basilisk fang. So basilisk venom could probably do the job, but it's almost impossible to get hold of. I think the corpse of the thing is still in the chamber, but only me and snake-face can get in there, and I don't know if the venom would still be any good after all these years. Even if it was, I'd still have to get into Hogwarts to get into the chamber, and I can't really do that right now..."

"You want us to keep a lookout for some?" George asked.

"We have to do some... Not so Ministry-approved dealings to get some of the supplies for our wares. We could ask around about basilisk venom." Fred continued, both twins looking at Harry earnestly.

"If you could." Harry nodded. "Try not to take too many risks with it, don't ask outright, but if you can get ahold of some," He let the sentence hang.

"Of course." Fred grinned.

"Whatever you need, little brother." Harry nodded, and then fidgeted with his fingers, his tail flicking nervously back and Forth near the tip, the fin brushing the arm of the chair with every backwards flick.

"Have you... Have you talked to Mum and D-Dad?" They both nodded, and George scooted to the edge of his seat to clasp a hand on his shoulder.

"They know you're okay. They're both worried, but they understand." Harry nodded, not looking up.

"Have you heard from Ginny?"

"Not yet. But the coins or Mum's clock would have said if something happened to her." Harry knew that already of course, but there was a difference between knowing nothing bad had happened to someone, and knowing they were okay.

"What about Ron and Hermione?" They may not be friends, not exactly, not anymore, but they had been for so long that he felt compelled to ask about them.

"No." Fred scowled. "They just... They disappeared around when you and the others did, and no one's heard from them since then. The Order went looking for them, but they're gone. Hermione's parents are gone too, no one can find them. Ron's owl showed up just after they left, and Crookshanks too, but there was no letters or anything." George nodded.

"Mum's been beside herself. But Dad thinks that since they sent the owl and that cat that they're probably okay, or at least alive. Likely that they're hiding and trying to figure out what to do about everything. I know they asked to join the Order just before the end of the year, but McGonagall told them they were too young." Harry nodded.

"How is the Order then? And everyone else?"

"In chaos." Fred said, matter-of-factly. "With Dumbledore gone, no one really knows what to do, and there was a while there where they were all worried that Grimmauld wasn't safe anymore. But no death eaters have come knocking, so they decided to stay for now." George hummed.

"McGonagall has taken over, most of the time, but it's hard to know what to do. No one knows about how the headmaster was dying, 'cept you and us cuz you told us, and everyone thinks Snape's gone to the other side since he killed him. Cuz of that, they've got no one to spy and tell them what old Voldy is up to." Harry nodded. He had heard about that.

"So it's true then? He's the one who did it?" Fred nodded.

"That's what everyone's saying." Harry knew Severus well enough to know it was more than that. Dumbledore was going to die anyways, and killing him would have cemented his place at Voldemort's side, allowing him to subtly dismantle the monsters plans from the inside. It was a nasty bit of business, and no one on the 'light' side would ever believe it, but it was what Harry believed. He had grown too close to Severus to ever willingly accept that the potion master could possibly be a criminal in any sense of the word. Maybe he was wrong and it was only wishful thinking, but he would hold tight to that belief like a lifeline until someone yanked it from his grasp. The twins knew what he thought, they knew the things he had told and trusted Severus with, things that had not yet been betrayed, and whether they believed the same themselves or not, he knew they would never bad-mouth the man in his presence. They were wonderful that way.

"I see... Could you two do me a favor?" Fred nodded with a small smile and George rolled his eyes.

"Of course."

"Do you even need to ask?" Harry dug into his cloak, and pulled an envelope from his pocket. He had written it earlier, but he'd had to add to it while he was at the bank, after he had found the sword in the vault. He handed the envelope over to Fred, knowing he was the least likely of the pair to lose it.

"Could you get this to Moody at the next meeting? I'll be back in a week, and if he's replied by then you can let me know." Fred nodded, and took it carefully. His brother tried to grab it and he snatched it away and hid it in his shirt with a reprimanding glance. George pouted.

"Sure. He should be there tomorrow." Harry smiled and muttered his thanks.

They tried to push aside more serious matters for the rest of Harry's visit, and the time passed them by with smiles and laughter. Both things which Harry found he had sorely needed.

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Harry sat in front of a table that night, glaring at the horcruxes placed out on it. He had set them there, all in a row, all but the ring, which was in a box in his room, and the diary; the fate of which he knew not. He eyed them all, looking for some connection, other than the one which he had already found. The cup, was Hufflepuff's, the tiara, actually a diadem, as he had learned, had belonged to Ravenclaw, and the twisting 'S' and color scheme of the locket proved its' origins as belonging to Slytherin. The diary had been Tom's, back before he had become Voldemort, and the ring, according to Dumbledore, had belonged to the Gaunt family, and thus, had also been Tom's.

Other than the diary and the ring, the others were of the founders, and were, from Harry's perspective, like trophies. What better way to mark his power than for Voldemort to turn items having belonged to such people, known as well as the founders, into items of the blackest magic. If he had kept with the pattern, that would mean the last item had been owned by Godric Gryffindor (he was taking a risk here in assuming that the Dark Lord had both reached his chosen number of horcruxes, and not gone beyond it). Harry could imagine it. Everything that Gryffindor had stood for had been qualities which Voldemort hated, and Harry could see the Dark Lord filled with malicious glee when turning some artifact of the red and gold founder's into something that would have the long-dead wizard rolling over in his grave.

But the only well-known thing which had belonged to Gryffindor, had been his sword, and, having handled that himself in second year, Harry was certain it was untainted. But he didn't know about anything else that had belonged to Gryffindor. He groaned, and pulled out the tongs he used to handle them, to begin re-locking the horcruxes back where they had been. This would require even more research. Maybe there was some book from the Keeper's library which would tell him what it could be.

Of course, even if he figured out _what_ the last horcrux was, he would still have to find out _where_ it was at. He cussed violently under his breath.

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"Master." Harry groaned. He had been awake for a few minutes already, but that didn't change the fact that it was early in the morning and there was false sunlight filtering through his enchanted window to make him feel warm and lethargic. He was hardly ready to get out of bed yet. He moved his arm from where it had been covering his eyes, and glared at Kreacher, who was entirely unimpressed with any implied threat in the young man's gaze.

"What?" He snapped, having never been known as a morning person.

"Lord Malfoy requests to speak with you." He sighed. It had become a regular occurrence of sorts, since they had come to live in the castle, for whatever reason. His meetings with the man always left him a combination of confused, annoyed, and immensely amused; with emphasis on one of the three based on whatever happened in that particular meeting. Often he asked about the goings-on outside the castle, since Harry's visits with the twins, and access to the coins and the Marauder's map, made him the only person to ever receive any word from the outside. The castle had owls, but they also had owl wards. No owls could get in, and the ones that went out had their packages and letters carefully screened by the house elves. People weren't very inclined to send messages when they knew they wouldn't get replies, or that their owls might never return, or that their letters would be inspected and read by some third party... All the same, that he would seek information was normal enough, but the odd etiquette lessons the blonde ponce seemed possessed to instill upon him were not so normal. Lord Malfoy had, somehow, learned that he was the acting Lord Black, and had seemingly made it his life's goal to turn Harry into a proper little pureblood Lord.

Harry loved making it very clear he had no intention of following along with any of it, and his favorite pastime (in this otherwise very boring castle) had quickly become listening to the man lecture him on perfect posture, and then promptly leaning back in whatever seat he was in and putting his boots up on the table (sometimes he even conjured mud to stomp in before he met with him so it would all flake off onto the table), which never failed to make the blonde wince as though in pain and glare at his feet as if they were a personal assault on his person.

All in all it was really very hilarious.

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Lucius was in the Library today, and it was early enough that no one else was there at the moment. He sat in the one armchair in the place that had a high back and was drinking some wine (Harry had wine in the castle?), one leg crossed over the other with his cane laying straight across them, and everything about him screaming aristocrat and pureblood and hey-look-at-me-with-my-giant-stick-shoved-into-som e-unmentionable-place. Harry settled himself into a smaller chair near him, and propped his feet up on the small table between them, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. Lord Malfoy kept his expression reasonably calm, though one of his eyebrows gave away his ire by twitching randomly. Harry grinned, and the blonde snorted.

Even without being able to see it, be could almost imagine the snowcat that represented Lord Malfoy was pacing back and forth before him, as such an animal might do when locked in a cage, and Harry wondered if the man felt that way. Did he feel trapped? Stuck here in Harry's castle? A twinge of pity and guilt panged at him, and he set his feet on the ground and put his hands in his lap. It wasn't proper posture, but it seemed to be enough to ease Malfoy's irritation.

"You left the castle yesterday." Harry nodded. "Where," He paused, changing his question. "Have you heard anything new?"

"Not particularly. I got confirmation that Severus was the one to kill Dumbledore, but beyond that there hasn't been anything new."

"No word from the school?" Did he really care about the students, or did he feel it was expected of him to ask?

"I can only get short messages from there, though the message changes the moment it's been given. Right now the message is just 'All's well', same as it's been since last week." The man nodded and sipped at his wine, eyes distant a moment in thought. Harry waited.

"There is no word? Nothing at all?" His eyes were still distant, and Harry wondered if he was really even speaking to Harry anymore. His voice had the slightest touch of desperation in it, and Harry felt even more guilty. He had left Malfoy very much out of the loop on things, simply for a lack of trust, but now he felt a bit badly for doing so.

It occurred to him then, in one of his occasional surges of epiphany, that, high society pureblood or not, Lucius Malfoy had never been known for sitting back and letting others do the work. Every time Harry had ever seen something about him in the Prophet, it had been in regards to something the man had done. _Lord Malfoy as made a generous donation at such and cush place and has gone to see the construction of a new wing himself._ _Lord Malfoy has used his considerable skill in something to do suchandsuch. In a brilliant political move, Lord Malfoy has, etc. Etc._ He had been there himself that night at the Ministry. This was not a man who was accustomed to sitting back and letting others handle the work, without playing a part himself or being there to at least oversee things; aware of each and every step.

"Are you any good at research?" He asked, and Malfoy looked up. His carefully crafted mask broke only through the spark of interest in his eyes.

"Yes." He said carefully. "It was one of those things which were required to receive any sort of good grade during my time at Hogwarts." Harry leaned forward.

"Would you like to help with something? Something to defeat Voldemort?"

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Leaving the task of researching the Horcruxes to Lucius freed Harry up to look into Chaos Magic. He gave Lucius access to the Keeper's Library, and the horcruxes themselves, with an oath that ensured the pureblood would not betray him or speak of anything he read with others without being killed for his trouble.

In hindsight, Harry should have begun to research Chaos Magic since the moment he found out what he was, and learned that it was connected to the MIshipeshu. At the time he had been more concerned with hiding things, and then with his schoolwork, but he should still have sound room for this subject of study. Still, it was too late now, and Harry would simply have to do what he could to make up for the lost time.

He gathered a few books on rare types of magic from the lot, and started. Maybe he would learn something interesting along the way...

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Most of the books had only a few spare mentions of chaos magic, and only one or two proved at all helpful. In the end, it was a book from the normal library, rather than among the keeper's books, that proved to be invaluable.

It was, compared to most of the other tomes in the place, rather new. It had been written extremely recently (recently being when he was a toddler or so), by a man from Dubai. If Harry could hazard a guess, he would say that it had probably been his grandfather (on his father's side of course) who had brought the book here, assuming he had still been alive when the Potters were killed. The book felt unfinished to him, looking as though the man who wrote it had intended to write more, but had changed his mind.

According to the book, chaos magic was more a form of wild magic than anything else, and it functioned and worked in different ways than normal types of magic were prone to do. It was constantly changing, and often violent, and strongly connected to emotions and pure intent in ways that other types weren't. The book was on a different subject, the parts on chaos magic being only side notes, but the author wrote as though he knew a great deal more.

The most important bit of information, was a small sentence, seemingly more of an afterthought than anything else that said that, because of its' wild nature, chaos magic was nearly impossible to access or control with a wand, and the dates at the back about the author. According to the book, the man who wrote it had been fairly young at the time he had done so, and, given how long magical humans lived, he should still be alive, assuming he hadn't befallen some unpleasant fate.

Harry needed, quite desperately, to fix his problems with his magic. He would give anything for it, because if he wouldn't even control his magic, he was unlikely to be able to kill Voldemort. An idea formed in his mind that wouldn't leave him alone, and, bereft of other options, he decided he would act on it.

This author seemed to know his stuff when it came to chaos magic, and so would be likely to know how to help him.

All Harry needed to do, was find him.

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And here we go. Part Three has begun, and will bring us into a new area as the first real vestiges of plot begin to descend. I'll see you all next week for chapter 2.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	20. Part Three, Chapter Two

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Even you people who were not very nice!**

Not much to make note of at the moment, so I'll get on with it quickly.

There's been some complaints about how far into the story we are without it becoming a crossover properly. About this, I say that one, this is a slow moving story, and two, I've known what I wanted to do here since I began writing. I'm sorry if the pace bothers you, but I'm not changing or speeding things up, as this is My story, and I'm going to continue writing it the way I want to. You're more than welcome to stop altogether if it bothers you, or for a few months and come back when there's more going on.

Now then, my irritation expressed, I welcome you to the second chapter of Part 3.

Enjoy.

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Harry wasn't sure what made him decide he would go after the author himself, and find what he knew. The many books and occasional scroll at his disposal, vast in subject, with some being lost arts, contained nearly everything he could ever wish to know on the subject of magic, and other subjects as well. Except, it seemed, when concerning the subject of Chaos Magic. Older books held only mentions of it, all of them speaking as though the reader should already know what it was, and the newer ones had nothing about it at all in them. It was lost knowledge, or maybe hidden was more appropriate. This was the type of thing that was just passed from person to person, like gossip, mannerisms, or fairy tales (back in the day). It seemed to be knowledge that moved mainly by word of mouth. It was a strange thing to Harry, who had always been able to find anything else in books (from the Library at his primary school in Surrey, to the much more vast selection of tomes at Hogwarts), to imagine this. All the same, it made no difference how the knowledge was passed, so much as it was something he desperately needed to learn. Thus, he needed to find someone who already knew about it, and, right now, with no other sources presenting themselves, this man was his best bet.

If the book was to be believed, the author's name was Mahdi El-Amin, and he was born in Dubai long enough ago that he would be in his seventies or his eighties now, which, for a wizard, was more comparable to someone in their forties or fifties, being that wizards and witches aged slower and lived longer than muggles. Harry, having little knowledge in the way of geography, consulted his map to find where Dubai was, exactly, it taking him a minute to find it, and discovered that it was farther than he had hoped, but not as far as he had feared. Dubai was in the United Arab Emirates, in the Middle East on a coast line, and it was more than two thousand miles south, and a small bit to the east, of Bogdon Stronghold.

Going there would mean going alone, and under disguise, and he would be too far away from the castle and everything else to get back in an emergency if anything were to happen here. Kreacher might be able to come find him, but the elf would not be able to apparate him back because of the distance. He had no guarantees that he would find anyone who spoke his language or who would be able or willing to help him, and, more than that, there was no guarantee he would even find Mr. El-Amin, or that, if he did, the man would help him. It was a gamble, a far fetched and dangerous one, but it gave him hope, and something in him screamed to take it.

So Harry prepared.

He looked into everything about the region that he could (climate, laws, and places to stay mainly), and packed his backpack and jacket with as much as they both could hold, stuffing a few extra things into the empty gauntlet of the armor that didn't have his wand in it. He fashioned a harness of sorts to hold the dagger from Draco against his chest beneath the jacket, and managed to find a belt that he could hook the sword from the vault onto, with a small glamour on it to hide it from the eyes of muggles. He had no formal training with either, but just having them there made him feel safer. He had no way to know for sure if his magic would cooperate when he needed it to, and he would rather he had a weapon than not; even if he didn't know how to use it.

He talked extensively with the goblins, exchanging galleons with them for the Middle Eastern equivalent (a large number of coppery gold coins with beautiful writing on them that Harry couldn't hope to understand and a picture of some kind of feline), and muggle money as well (this including several different kinds in case of a need to travel, since the different areas all seemed to have different currency). He packed everything else he thought he might need while still packing lightly, and when he was sure he was ready, he turned to the other problems.

It had taken him just over two weeks to prepare, and during that time Lucius Malfoy had been tirelessly researching the horcruxes and possible artifacts belonging to Godric Gryffindor, slowly but surely making headway. He had shown a powerful, dedicated, and single-minded attentiveness to the task Harry had asked of him, that seemed very strange when coming from a pureblood Lord (especially as it reminded him a lot of Hermione studying for Exams). Still, that dedication had Harry willing to leave the care of those objects and the New Keeper's library in his hands. He didn't think he would never trust Lucius Malfoy with his life, or with too many of his secrets, but he felt he could trust him in this. Then he rounded up the members of the old D.A. that were in the castle, showed them the great map and the marauder's map, and left them to look after everything (with Kreacher's help) under Lucius' supervision.

The very last thing he had to do, was say goodbye, first to the Dursleys, and then to the twins.

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"Are you sure you have to go?" Aunt Petunia looked worried, her hands twisting together fretfully and biting her lip. Harry wondered if mannerisms like that were learned or genetic.

"Yes. It's... I can't explain what's going on exactly, but I have to. It could give me a chance..."

"To kill that evil wizard?" He nodded, because, while not exact, it was the truth, and she only seemed to fret more.

"Where are you going?" Dudley was looking at him with something like resignation, and he rubbed his mum's back comfortingly.

"I can't tell you." Dudley only nodded, seeming to have expected this. Uncle Vernon huffed but said nothing.

"Well..." His Aunt paused, and then surprised him by throwing her arms around him in a hug. "Just be careful, Harry."

"I..." He slowly hugged her back, still unused to any kind of physical affection when coming from any of the Dursleys. "I will." She pulled back a bit and looked sternly at him.

"You promise me?"

"I promise I'll be careful." She nodded and let him go, and then he faced another hug from his cousin, this one decidedly more constricting. He didn't hesitate as much before returning it this time.

"Don't get into any trouble you can't get out of." Was Dudley's advice, and Harry nodded with a grin as his cousin stepped away with a slap to his back. Uncle Vernon stepped forward after that, and rather than hug him simply clapped him on the shoulder.

"You better come back in one piece, boy." He said sternly, and Harry held back a smile as he nodded.

"Yes sir." The words may have rolled automatically off his tongue as they had during his childhood, but there was none of the bitter feeling that usually accompanied them.

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The twins didn't say anything at first, when he told them he would be leaving for awhile. They just stared at him, and then he found himself wrapped up somewhere between four arms and two torsos. They both held onto him tightly, as though this was the last chance they would ever have to do so, and Harry clung back just as much.

"You're coming back, right?" Fred asked when they finally pulled away a bit. George snorted.

"Of course he's coming back!" But Fred's eyes never left Harry's.

"Yes. I'm coming back. I don't know how long I'll be gone for, but I am coming back." Fred nodded, the tension around his eyes easing some, and the redhead nodded sadly.

"Okay." He stayed with them for a few hours, talking and laughing and just spending time with them, because none of them knew for certain when they would see each other next. Then it was time for him to get back to the bank. He was to portkey to another bank in Dubai, and they would direct him to a hotel for the night, then, in the morning, he could head into one of the magical areas, and start his search.

"You look after yourself little brother."

"Try and write if you can."

"I will."

"And take this." George snapped a bracelet around his wrist. "Just in case." It was a bronze color, and both thicker and wider than the glamour bands he used. It was almost like an old shackle. He blinked at it.

"What is this?" Fred smiled sadly.

"It's for just in case. It responds to intent."

"It'll heat up and glow a little if there's anyone around that means you harm."

"It'll only react if they mean you specifically."

"Not if you're just one of many."

"It works for witches, wizards, and magical beings,"

"But not muggles, squibs, or magical creatures."

"So be careful." George looked sternly at him. "Don't try and face anything dangerous if you can help it."

"Just run. It might be cowardly but it'll keep you alive long enough to come back to us." Fred smiled. "Take some of this too. Our newest creation." He handed Harry a small bag that felt as though it was filled with sand.

"Peruvian Darkness Powder. Just throw a bit of it down and it'll make the whole area pitch black."

"In case you can't get away on your own."

"I'll miss you guys."

"**We'll miss you too little brother**."

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It was night when he arrived at Dabab Jandal, the main bank in the northern regions of the Middle East. Unlike Gringotts, Dabab was run by Imps, rather than goblins, though the two were apparently good allies, and worked together well, and often. Harry studied the Imp that had seemingly been appointed to be in charge of helping him, and tried not to make it obvious that he was doing so. He knew next to nothing about Imps, and the last thing he wanted to do was insult one of them.

They reminded Harry somewhat of house elves, with their thin limbs and large floppy ears. The similarities ended there however. Where houselves were bald, Imps had hair, and where a house elf's nose was rounded, an Imp's was long and pointed. They had horns, not unlike his own, though where he had only two, they had four, and theirs curved in a way that was reminiscent of a ram. Their skin came in various shades of reddish brown. The Imp that came to meet him was so light a color he almost looked as though he had bathed in blood. His hair was black, and slicked back in a manner reminiscent of Draco in first year, and he looked up at Harry with almond shaped eyes that had no white. They were large and black and reminded Harry very much of a bug.

"Hello."

"Welcome, Lord Black." It's voice was more of an alto tone than the baritone of goblins the teen was familiar with, and sounded vaguely feminine. The Imp didn't look female, but he could be wrong.

"Thank you."

"I am Bune. I will be helping you with whatever you need during your time here."

"Grimrok said you had prepared a place for me to stay?" The Imp nodded.

"Yes. Under normal circumstances, we would have set up a room at a muggle hotel for you, as the ones here are quite nice. They are, however, also quite expensive, and the goblins told us you wished for something cheaper that would not draw too much attention to yourself. There are several magical areas in the city, and we managed to find an Inn at one that should suit your purposes. It's on the edge of town, in one of the few areas of the city not known for wealth, but it's nice enough that it should not bother you too much. I assume this is acceptable?" The Imp spoke rather quickly, and Harry was forced to listen very carefully to hear everything he/she said.

"That will be just fine, thank you. Could you tell me where the Silver Hag publishing company is located?" They were the ones who had published the book, and it was as good a place to start as any. The Imp nodded.

"I believe that's located in the magical district to the North of the city. I can set up transportation for you, if you would like. They would be closed now, but I'm sure it won't be any trouble to go there in the morning." Harry nodded.

"Thank you." The Imp nodded, and for the first time Harry noted, and was disconcerted, by the fact that the little being had yet to make any facial expression.

"You are most welcome, Lord Black."

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The ride to the inn was an interesting experience for Harry. Unlike in magical Europe, the magical world here seemed well inclined to use any muggle technology that caught their fancy so long as they could find away to make it function around or with magic. This, of course, included cars. The car he was in moved between and past and over everything else in the same way that the Knight bus did, but it was not nearly as fast. As a result, Harry had the opportunity to see much of the city.

Dubai was huge, larger than anywhere he had ever been before. They passed by older buildings that reminded him of old movies he had seen from within his cupboard, and they were all mixed in with far more modern buildings, some of them very very tall and lit up like Christmas trees. There were all sorts of people in all sorts of dress, some Arabic, some not. The entire place was like a mosh pit of various cultures and peoples, and Harry found himself fascinated. Eventually, they passed by fewer and fewer large buildings until they found themselves in an area that was almost entirely older places. Harry shivered as they drove through a magical ward of some kind, and then began to slow down. Soon they stopped, and the driver, a wizard with dark skin and hair who hadn't said a word to Harry, nodded at the teen. He nodded back and got out with a muttered thanks.

The car sped off almost immediately, and Harry looked around. Most of the places here were dark, and closed because of the hour; except for one building, which was directly before him. Tan walls and red drapes in every window that were faded by the sun met his eyes, some with lights behind them. None of those windows had any glass, and the doorway had no door either, but just another faded drape. The clay packed walls were cracked and chipped and old. Harry smiled. He knew some of those large and beautiful buildings had been hotels, but he thought he rather liked the look of this place much more.

Outside the car now, he also found himself introduced to the climate for the first time. It was moist here, the barest hint of salt from the nearby sea floating through the air, and it was warm also, warmer than it was in the U.K. during summer nights. Harry wondered how hot it would be during the day. He walked over to the building, and parted the curtain a bit to peek his head in.

This revealed a room with old wooden floors, and many round tables with chairs at them. The room was very plain, all the walls made from the same tanned clay stone as the outside, and broken only by a another doorway with a curtain, and a set of stairs leading up. There was a counter, also, and a man with tan skin and greying hair sat behind it, dressed in off-white robes and reading a book, his brown eyes concealed a bit by rectangular reading glasses. Harry entered the place slowly, and the sound of his boots on the wood had the older gentleman looking up at him.

He watched as the older man studied him in the same manner he had studied the man as he read. The brown eyes roved up and down his form, stopping once on the scimitar at his hip, and then resting on his face. The man's expression was careful, and he leaned back in his chair and opened his arms in a peaceful gesture.

"Welcome. How may I help you?" His English was good, though it held an accent Harry had never before encountered, and the teen wondered if all the people here spoke that way.

"Yes. I was told a room had been prepared for me?" He asked. He was glamoured, though with his usual glamour that changed very little, and he and the goblins had decided upon the name of Harry White for his stay here. Simple and unassuming, and too common to be bothered with, but still keeping his first name, so he wouldn't slip up. He found himself amused by the use of White, considering his real last name was the opposite color. The older man's expression lightened slightly.

"Would you be Mr. White then?" Harry nodded. "Ah!" He smiled and reached under the counter. He dug about and the teen heard the clanking and sliding of metal. He pulled out an old key with a tag on it that had the number four and more of that pretty writing. "Here. This one is for you. The room is on the second floor. Have you eaten dinner yet?" Harry smiled and shook his head as he came closer to gather up the key.

"I'm afraid I haven't had the chance." The man smiled and stood.

"I see. I will prepare something for you. Feel free to take your things up, and then come back down. I am sure we have some left overs I can warm up, and you can eat breakfast with everyone in the morning also. Or do you want to sleep in?"

"Breakfast would be nice. I'd like to get up early anyways." The man nodded.

"Alright. Go on now, I'll see what I can find." He shuffled out from behind the counter and put a friendly hand on Harry's arm to push him towards the stairs, then disappeared into the other room, past the curtain. Harry went up feeling relatively calm. This was a strange place, and so very different than what he was used to, but he was sure he could get along just fine if the people were all as nice as the innkeeper seemed to be.

His room was a small place, but nice. Even though the walls were chipped and cracked in places, and the furniture was old, it was very clean and well taken care of. The bed was simple, somewhere between the size of a twin and a queen mattress, with soft white linens that smelled like lavender. There was a small dresser for those staying longer periods of time, and a little square table with two chairs at either end and a lamp in the middle of it that glowed with magic rather than electricity.

The window, as he had seen from the outside, had no glass, only those same red curtains, though the room itself had a proper door. At least there were a few small runes carved near the bottom, with similarities to the writing on the coins, that he believed kept out the wind and pests. There was another door, also, inside the room that revealed a tiny bathroom with stone counters and a cramped little shower. Harry set his backpack on the floor, leaning against the dresser, and took off and tossed his sword onto the bed. He didn't really think he would need that while eating dinner. He looked nervously at the curtained window and at the door, neither having any sort of magic to them, and hoped his things would be safe as he wandered back down the stairs, making sure to physically lock the door behind him and tucking the key into a pocket of his jacket.

The innkeeper wasn't in the main room when he came down, and he opened the curtain to look into the next room. This revealed a kitchen, with stone tiles and counters, a tiny rusted stove, a sink, and a little table that looked a bit lopsided. It reminded Harry a little of the kitchen at the Burrow. The innkeeper was at the stove, stirring something up in a pot with a soft smile. He heard Harry come in and turned to look at him, glancing once at the teen's hip to see that the scimitar was gone. The slight tenseness that had been present in his shoulders before eased some.

"Ah! It is almost done. It just needs to be heated."

"Couldn't you have used a spell for that?" The man snorted.

"Food should never be cooked with magic! It is always better if done this way." He made a motion towards the stove. There was a slight hint of zeal in his voice, and Harry imagined this was something he was quite passionate about. The teen chuckled.

"I suppose so. Would you like some help? I know my way around a kitchen." The man shook his head.

"No! You are a guest! Guests should never be forced to cook their own meals. It is impolite."

"I've never seen it that way. I think that if a guest wants to earn his keep by helping, he should he allowed to."

"You earn your keep already by paying for your stay. You need do nothing more. Besides, I am only heating it. It was already cooked." He stared at Harry a moment, with a look the teen recognized as similar to the ones he often saw directed at Luna; like he was very strange. "I am Sa'id." Harry smiled.

"I'm Harry."

"It is nice to meet you then. Properly. Ah, it is ready." He wandered over to one of the cabinets and pulled down a cream bowl, bringing it back to the stove to spoon some of the food into it. He filled it up and then set it at the table before one of the chairs, and Harry sat down with a grateful smile.

"Thank you." The man grinned and nodded.

"You're welcome." He moved back to the cabinets again, and Harry eyed his meal. It looked to be meat, chopped into some sort of white sauce. He had never seen such a thing before. Sa'id poured some juice into a couple of cups, pushing one over to Harry, and sat down in the other seat. "It is Shakriya. It is very good, try some." He smiled, and the teen tasted a spoonful. The meat was beef, and it tasted well seasoned. He could taste garlic in it, and the white sauce had the barest hint of a yogurt flavor that was offset entirely by the meat. Strange, but good, and Harry hummed appreciatively.

He ate in silence, Sa'id watching him with a smile as he sipped at his drink, and when he was done he was almost surprised at how full he was. The bowl hadn't been very large, but it was still filling.

"Thank you Sa'id."

"You thanked me already." He chuckled when the teen only shrugged. "Do you plan to stay long?" He asked. Harry crossed his arms and rested them on the table.

"I'm not sure yet. I'll probably be here for a couple days at least." Sa'id nodded.

"Most people, even Sahir prefer to stay in the big hotels in the main part of the city. You surprise me, staying here instead. Very few people who are not from here do so. Most of my guests live here somewhere, and only come to visit family. Did you not have enough money?"

"Sahir?"

"Ah, forgive me. They have a different word for it where you come from don't they? Sahir is a man of magic."

"A wizard then." Sa'id nodded. "Well, it's not that I don't have the money, I just prefer places like this. That's all." He shrugged and Sa'id accepted his answer with a small nod.

"I understand. Is this your first time traveling?" Harry thought about that. Technically, it was. True that he had been to Hogwarts, and Bogdon, both of which were in different places than Surrey, but neither really counted. Most of Hogwarts' students were from the U.K. and the surrounding areas, and he had never really gone anywhere but the castle, and Hogsmeade, which hardly counted. Bogdon was in the middle of nowhere. There was nothing to see aside from snow but the ocean several miles north, and he had never had the time to go there. So in the end he nodded.

"Yes. I've never really been anywhere before." The older man looked surprised.

"And you are travelling alone? Do you not have family, friends, who could come with you? No man should take his first journey without others at his side." Harry didn't answer him. If he could have taken the twins or anyone else safely he would have. He hadn't even brought Oddball or Metis with him, for fear of what might happen to them, and had instead left them in the care of Draco and Blaise respectively. Sa'id sighed. "I suppose it cannot be helped, can it? Your face tells me there is no one you could bring. What did you come here for?"

"I... I'm just trying to find someone." Sa'id didn't ask, and a little while later Harry finished his juice and said goodnight.

He wanted to be well rested to begin his search in the morning.

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Breakfast at the Inn, which Harry learned was called Sakin Bustan, consisted of a slimy greenish soup called Molokhia, that looked gross and tasted delicious, though, from some of the looks the few other guests at the inn gave Sa'id, he gathered that it was probably not normally eaten for breakfast.

"I want to feed my guests much good food before Ramadan begins!" Was all Sa'id had to say on the matter when Harry asked.

"Ramadan?" The man hummed. They stood in the kitchen, Sa'id chopping up vegetables for lunch already, and Harry doing dishes (the man only allowing it after the teen had insisted).

"You do not know?" Harry shook his head.

"Ramadan begins in a week. It is a time of fasting, charity, reflection, and prayer."

"Fasting?" Sa'id nodded.

"Yes. During the month of Ramadan, we do not eat or drink or take part in wine or the pleasures of the flesh from the time the sun rises until it sets."

"Why?" He gave Harry that strange look again, and then smiled gently the way someone might smile at the antics of a small child.

"It is a way that we give praise to Allah. Ramadan teaches us charity, and the ways of kindness, and love. It shows us restraint and patience, and helps us grow to become peaceful." Harry listened with curiosity.

"Peace?"

"Yes. The taking away of the food and drink is only a means to an end. If one can train themselves to push aside such things, one can train themselves to be patient. Patience teaches us how to be better people. It teaches us how to be better to our brothers and sisters, and to Allah, and thus make peace, so that war is avoided."

"Who... Um," Sa'id sighed, and gave him a long-suffering sort of look as though he had already begun to grow used to how little Harry knew.

"Allah is the Almighty. He is our God." Harry nodded, beginning to understand. It was a religious thing then. He turned back to the dishes. He himself didn't really believe much in anything spiritual. He never gave those kinds of things much thought. When he was a child, his Aunt and Uncle, and even his teachers in Primary school would sometimes talk about God, but he had never been religious himself. He didn't think that he ever would be. Still, the meaning behind this Ramadan had merit. Using patience to train yourself to be a better person and push aside warfare.

What would the world be like if there was no war?

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Silver Hag Publishing Center was a modern building just outside of the main city. It was a simple rectangular building with arches that seemed to be common in this region. The windows had proper glass panes on them, and the inside contained white tiled floors, palm trees in the corners, and an American woman wearing a colorful shawl over her hair at the front desk who was talking on a phone; a strange thing to see in the magical world. She put it down not long after he came in, and smiled up at him.

"Hello sir, how can I help you?" He smiled back at her nervously and shifted on his feet.

"I... Well, I'm looking for someone actually. It might be an unusual request but I'm trying to get in touch with the Author of a book you people published."

"I see... If you could please have a seat over there," She pointed at a small grouping of chairs in the corner he hadn't noticed before. "I need to call my supervisor." Her grin was as false as the nails on her fingers, but he nodded and listened to her anyways.

The chairs weren't very comfortable, and he sat on the edge of one and bounced one knee impatiently. The woman spoke into the phone for a few minutes and then put it down and picked up a magazine, not even casting a glance in his direction. Harry grew steadily more and more impatient until finally the metal elevator at the back wall of the foyer opened up and a man dressed much the same as Sa'id stepped out and came over to talk with the woman. He was short and stout and a large portion of his face was obscured by a beard. They whispered back and forth for a few minutes and then the man came over towards him, so he stood.

"I am Fadil Samara." The man had a very deep voice and a strong grip when Harry shook his hand.

"Harry White. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Samara." Maybe some of Lucius' teachings had actually rubbed off on him.

"Ms. Corner tells me you wish to get in touch with one of our authors?" He asked. Harry nodded.

"Yes. I was hoping to speak with him in person about something he mentioned in his book." Mr. Samara nodded with a hum.

"I'm afraid that usually we don't give out information on our authors, for the sake of privacy you understand." Harry's shoulders slumped, and the man seemed to take pity on him. "If I may... Who was it you wished to get in contact with?"

"Mahdi El-Amin." Mr. Samara started, seemingly recognizing the name.

"You know him?" The man scrutinized him.

"Mr. El-Amin has written a few books for us. You say you wished to speak within regarding something he wrote?" Harry nodded, and reached into his jacket. Mr. Samara seemed to take note of the scimitar at his hip for the first time, and took half a step back. Harry pulled the book out and showed it to the man.

"He mentioned something in here that I've been trying to research. I haven't been able to find very many books that even mention it, and his is the only one that does so where the author is still alive. It seemed like he knew more about the subject so..." Harry shrugged.

"The subject?"

"Chaos Magic." He said so carelessly, and then watched the other man straighten up. Mr. Samara seemed to study him in depth for the first time.

"May I ask, why this subject interests you so?"

"I..." Harry tried to think of an excuse. "I'm afraid I can't say."

"Well then I'm afraid I can't help you." The man immediately turned and began walking away and Harry floundered.

"Wait!" The supervisor stopped, and the woman at the desk glanced at them once. "I... Please sir." Mr. Samara turned towards him and crossed his arms, jutting out his chin. Harry bit a lip. "Please. I..." He grimaced. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't tell anyone here. But... He put out his hand, palm up, and with a glance towards the woman, to make sure she wasn't paying them any attention, he let some of his magic rise up. It danced visibly along his fingers and palm like an electric current; twisting and twirling about unpredictably. He pushed it back down and let his hand fall to his side. Mr. Samara's eyes showed comprehension. "I can't control it. I..." His voice wavered as he tried to explain, and the other sighed wearily.

"I'll take a look at our records." His shock seemed to amuse the other greatly.

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Mr. El-Amin, as it turned out, had given the publishing company his address so they could get in touch with him if needed. He actually lived just a little outside Dubai, in a small magical area that was, essentially, a village for people with little money who worked in Dubai itself. It was several miles away, and Harry decided he would return to Sakin Bustan for lunch, and then go looking for the place.

Sa'id seemed happy to see him, and the man served him, and the only other patron who had returned or stayed for lunch a dish that was essentially hollowed out and cut up pieces of cucumbers stuffed with meat, veggies and okra. It was good, and Harry wondered how a man so good at cooking had ended up as an innkeeper rather than a chef. He obligingly washed the dishes after eating, getting to it before the innkeeper had a chance to tell him otherwise.

"Are you leaving again for the afternoon?" Sa'id asked him, once again already preparing for dinner, chopping up some sort of meat this time.

"Yea. I have to go to..." He paused, thinking back. "A place called Darandar. Do you know where it is?"

"I do, and it's Daran Dar." He looked up. It was the other patron that had stayed. He was young, probably not too far from Harry's age, his skin dark but lighter than Sa'id's or Mr. Samara's. His eyes were brown and his head was shaved, something that seemed to make Sa'id frown in disapproval. "I could take you there, if you want." He handed Harry his plate to be washed.

"Really?" Harry smiled, though the other didn't return the expression. "That would be great. Thank you." The young man just nodded.

"We can go when you're done." He walked out after that, and Harry watched him go with a small frown.

"Don't mind him." He glanced at the old innkeeper before turning back to the dishes. "He's just grumpy. He's been that way since he got here. I'm surprised though."

"Hmm?"

"Ah. He usually stays in his room. He's been staying here for awhile, but he's normally very quiet. Not much of a social person, if you will." Harry nodded, understanding, and the two of them were quiet after that.

Harry found the young man waiting for him in the dining room when he was done, dressed in long tan cargo pants and sandals, and a baggy white shirt. He had seen similar dress in other parts of Dubai, and this seemed to be the norm aside from white robes, at least among those who were Muslim. There were a lot of different peoples living in Dubai.

"I'm Harry, by the way."

"I know." He sighed, and the other walked out without another word. He followed him irritably. Would it kill the guy to at least give him his name?

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They took a bus most of the way there, and then walked the rest of the way. Harry, having taken a taxi right up to the Publishing center (since the magical area there just blended in with the muggles) learned for the first time, the hard way, that he was not so unaffected by temperature as he had originally believed. True that he could probably get away with standing naked in a snowstorm and not have his balls freeze off, but in the heat, it was another matter entirely.

It never got hot enough in the summer in the U.K. for it to have been a problem there, but Dubai was hot. Hot and extremely humid (given its' being on the coast) and between the armor, his normal clothes, boots, and the leather jacket, Harry found himself sweating uncomfortably and picking at places on his clothing to try and get it to stop sticking to him. He had to wipe his face several times, and more than that had to constantly push his hair out of his face. It was long now, and brushed his shoulders in more places than not, but it usually didn't bother him, except that now it was limp with sweat. The grumpy patron (as he now called him in his head) snickered at him.

"It's your own fault you know, for dressing that way."

"..."

"Only an idiot wears layers in the desert... In the middle of summer."

"Shut up."

"You should have dressed lighter. Or at least learned some spells to protect you from the heat." He had done that, but with his magic acting up he was more likely to turn his blood to ice or burn his skin off than protect it. He glared at the other, who hadn't done any magic to help himself at all and yet still seemed entirely unbothered, and then growled as he was forced to push his sticky hair away again. The young man snickered. "Here." He pulled some twine from his pocket, and handed it to Harry.

"... What am I supposed to do with this?" The young man rolled his eyes and took it back, and then reached up and yanked on Harry's hair. The teen's arms flailed and he yelped as he was bent into a bow and the other began pulling at his hair. "What are you doing?!"

"Just shut up and keep still!" He did so, very confused and wincing occasionally as the other manhandled his hair. "There. All fixed you big baby." He pulled away with a glare that became a confused expression when he realized that his hair hadn't fallen back into his face. He felt upwards and then back and discovered that his hair had been tied at the base of his neck. Only a few uncooperative strands were left out, and they didn't bother him. The grumpy parton looked at him expectantly.

"... You carry string in your pockets?" Grumpy snorted.

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Daran Dar was a tiny dirty little town that made Harry feel a bit sad to see it. He had taken to carrying his jacket above his head to block out the sun before they got there, and he pulled it down and wiped at his forehead when they hit the beginnings of it. Harry could tell already that most of these people were probably even worse off than the Weasley's, who had to go though a great deal just to make sure every mouth got fed and every body was clothed.

How had someone from here become an author of all things?

He showed his companion the paper Mr. Samara had given him with the address on it, and the young man led him through the dank streets passed old battered buildings and a handful of shops, some closed, to a dingy little house near the far end of the town. It leaned dangerously to one side, the entire place crooked, and was one of the few buildings here built from wood rather than stone. No sounds or movement came from the place, and the grumpy patron waited a few paces back while Harry approached the door.

He knocked carefully, though the whole thing still seemed to shake as a result. A woman answered the door, a long lavender shawl covering her head with wisps of dark brown hair peeking out the sides in curls.

"Na'am?" He blinked.

"Um, do you speak English?" She waved a hand at him and jabbered something out in what he believed was Arabic, but might not have been. He took that to mean no. "Um. Hold on." He turned back towards his companion, who seemed to be busy picking his nails. "Hey?" The other looked dully at him. "Uh, I- Could you help me?" The young man rolled his eyes and gave a drawn out sigh that had one of Harry's brows twitching irritably. He came up to them.

"What is it?"

"I, um, she doesn't-" The young man's eyes fell on the woman and he said something in a droll tone that she seemed to understand, because she responded in her language.

"What do you want me to tell her?"

"Uh... Could you ask her if Mahdi El-Amin is here?" The young man barked something out in the woman's native tongue that was, hopefully, what Harry had asked. It seemed to contain the name at any rate. He couldn't understand what she said back to them, but the shaking of her head made it clear enough, and Harry's shoulders slumped a bit even before the grumpy patron turned to him.

"He doesn't live here anymore."

"Does she know where he moved to?" Harry asked. The other asked her, but she shook her head again when she responded, chattered something out, and then waved a hand at them and shut the door.

Harry walked a few paces away and then found himself squatting on the ground with a hand on his face. He had gotten his hopes up too high when Mr. Samara had willingly handed over the address. What was he supposed to do now?

"You okay?"

"Yea..."

"We could ask around town."

"I guess." Harry sighed and stood back up, and moved to walk away, but a noise behind them had them both turning. A teen came out of the run down house, dressed much the same as the grumpy patron, (though with shorts instead of pants) and ran up to them.

"My mother said you are looking for Mahdi?"

"...Yes." The woman's son grinned.

"My mother did not want to tell you. It is supposed to be secret. He left a couple years ago." Harry took a step forward.

"Do you know where he went?" The teen nodded.

"He went to Ibri. I don't know if he lives there, but I have a cousin who does. Mahdi said he would stay with him for a few days, so he might know. I can give you his address. You could find him."

Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face when he nodded.

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A new direction, isn't it?

I apologize if the influx of OCs bothers anyone, but Sa'id fades out, and while Mahdi plays a bigger role, he fades too. The only one that's really permanent is our Mr. Grumpy. I have some things that need to happen before we can move on to getting rid of old Moldy Warts.

I'm not feeling too well at the moment, so I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter. I, on the other hand, am going to go pass out.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate


	21. Part Three, Chapter Three

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed in spite of my lack of replying!**

Now then, here we are at the next chapter. Sorry for the late in the day update.

Keep in mind while reading this, that I've never been to the Middle East, and while I did a lot of research, there's bound to be some things that are off. If any of my readers have been to, or are from, the Middle East, I'd like to apologize now in case I accidentally offend you. That said, most of the places that have been mentioned thus far, and will be mentioned, are real places, and the only thing I've taken liberties with are the distances.

Moving on, I'm wondering if any of my readers have any skill with a pencil, as my own is fine, but limited, and if any of those who do would be willing to draw something for me, for this story. If there is, pm me, and I'll get back to you.

Alright, onto the chapter. Enjoy.

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He had consulted the Imps before he decided to head out to Ibri. Magical travel in the Middle East was not the same as in other places. Here, portkeys were used only when traveling over a thousand miles. If it was closer than that, you did it a different way. There were laws in place to ensure this. Where other places had brooms, they had magic carpets instead, but the use of them was highly regulated by the government, and it was dangerous to fly one when there was always the looming threat of a sandstorm, because the protective magicks on them were not strong enough to stand up to an act of nature. He could have apparated, and taken breaks along the way, except he didn't know how to, and apparition licenses were, once again, highly regulated. This basically boiled down to having to use muggle transportation, especially since Ibri was about two hundred miles southeast of Dubai.

In the end, Harry found himself on another bus. There was a television at the front of the bus, and the driver had very loud music videos playing, something Harry had not only never seen before, but which he also couldn't understand, since none of the songs were in English. The loudness of them coupled with the sounds of laughing and chatter coming from the other people on the bus led to the inevitable headache that Harry now had. Smoke wafted into his face and he waved a hand and coughed, glaring at his companion.

"Can't you do that later?" The other only smirked at him, and then obnoxiously flicked some ash in his direction. He glared, and the smirk only got louder.

On top of everything else, the grumpy patron (whose name he still didn't know) had, for whatever reason, decided to come with him.

It had happened entirely without Harry's consent. One moment, he had been eating a wonderful stew kind of dish that Sa'id had made, and the next the innkeeper and the grumpy patron had begun chattering away in another language, and Sa'id had turned to him with a smile.

"Ah! That is a wonderful idea!" He had said, and the smirk on the young man's face had told him he wasn't going to like it at all. He had agreed, because he couldn't actually stop the other from riding on the same bus as him, Sa'id had given a rather heartfelt speech revolving around his belief that no one should ever have to travel alone, and he didn't know if he would run into anyone else who didn't know English, so having a translator would come in handy.

Still, if he had known that Arabian bus drivers apparently had a great love for loud videos, or that buses here had no restrictions on smoking, or that the young man would find small ways to annoy him the whole way, he would have gone up to his room, grabbed his things, and hopped out through the window to just walk the way there. Alone. In silence.

He rubbed his temple, and the grumpy patron began snickering again. He didn't even bother to look at him, knowing it would do no good. Ash landed on his leg and he wiped it away with a muted snarl. He was, slowly, coming to truly hate cigarettes. Several minutes later he realized the other had stopped pestering him, and turned to see if he was still alive. He was, and his head was up, his mouth slightly open. He was asleep. Completely, utterly, fast asleep.

Harry's mouth dropped open and he stared. It was still noisy on the bus. How could he have possibly fallen asleep?! Almost as if to spite his disbelief, the other gave a soft snore and shifted his head. Harry sighed and turned back to the window to watch the desert go by. He should have just hired a translator to travel with him.

Someone who was quiet. And didn't annoy him. And didn't smoke.

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Ibri turned out to be a wonderful change from Dubai, at least from Harry's perspective. Dubai was a massive city with over two million inhabitants. Ibri, by comparison, was much much smaller, with less than one hundred thousand people. It was still large, but small enough that Harry was much more comfortable. There were no really tall buildings here, the largest place being an old fort that was still well maintained. There were some tourists here, likely to see some of the many ruins outside the city. There were a large number of craft shops here, and the majority of the building had been there for more than thirty years at least. To Harry, it had an 'old town' sort of feel to it, and he was happy with that.

The bus ride had been about eight hours, with a single stop at an area that looked to be used only by the bus itself and had restrooms and a gas station. After the trip, Harry's head was pounding violently and he felt exhausted, so they checked into a hotel. Or a motel more like. It was small, bigger than Sa'id's place, but still small, and there was only one room available. It had two beds at least, and Harry was really too tired to give a damn, so they bought a room, and settled in. Harry dropped his bag and sword and flopped face-down on one of the beds with a groan, not even bothering to look around. Something poked at his side, and with a wince he pulled off Draco's dagger and tossed it on the floor somewhere. He heard a chuckled from somewhere else in the room.

"Fuck off. Just leave me alone for the next twelve hours." His words were muffled by the bed, but the stifled laugh let him know he'd been heard. He sighed, and the room drifted into blessed silence. Soon the teen was asleep.

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When he woke up it was dark. He couldn't tell if that was because it was night time, or if the curtains were closed or something. A glance around the room revealed that it was newer than the one at Sakin Bustan, with painted walls the teen thought might be blue. The furniture was nicer, though just as sparse. The bed he lay on was small, a twin only, with coarser linens than the ones on the bed at Sa'id's. There was another bed, not far from him, and Grumpy was sprawled sideways on it, his back to Harry. The teen yawned and rubbed his eyes, standing up to go towards the one window of the place. It was covered in thick curtains and he pulled one aside to look out. The sky was mostly dark, with the smallest hint of light peeking out over the horizon. It was sunrise, Harry thought, and crawled back into bed, curling up under the blankets. Far too early for him to be awake just yet.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a while after that, and awoke fully when a pillow was thrown at his head. He pulled it off and glared, but Grumpy only grinned, entirely unapologetic. His glare intensified.

"You're a menace."

"So I've been told."

"I'm really beginning to hate you."

"I'm really beginning to give a shit... Not." Harry grumbled under his breath and rolled over so his back was to the other. He started and looked back up when another pillow smacked the back of his head. "You're wasting daylight. You wanna find this Mahdi guy or what?" Harry sighed, and debated in his head whether or not it would be more beneficial to stay in bed, wait till Grumpy left, and then take off back to Bogdon before he came back so he would never have to deal with him again rather than go looking for the elusive author with him. Unfortunately, he didn't have much choice.

"Fine. Just let me take a shower first."

"Whatever."

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The water, not as well filtered as he was used to, had the slightest taste of sand to it. He didn't mind though, if anything it helped, making it easier for him to imagine himself back at Hogwarts, swimming in the lake with the merpeople. He put a hand around the shell he had been given. He had never taken it off, since Moonscale had made it for him. Even in the shower, he kept it on. He felt better knowing it was there, even if he had yet to try and use it to contact the merpeople.

He felt better by the time he got out, no longer so annoyed by Grumpy's antics now that he had showered. He got dressed and put the glamour and everything else back on, making sure to tie up his hair with the bit of rough string Grumpy had given him, though he was much more gentle on his hair than the other.

Then they left, walking through Ibri to find the right address. They were sidetracked however, when they hit the main marketplace. Harry looked around himself in wonder. There were people selling all kinds of things. Craftsman who had made their wares themselves. There was beautiful pottery, carefully molded and painted by hand with wonderful designs. There was clothing and glassware, instruments and weapons, leather goods and even a place that sold animals.

It was amazing. Harry had never seen a marketplace before (not that he had ever really seen much of anything before) but even he could tell that this one was incredible. There were a number of tourists here who seemed to agree, all wandering around, pointing and smiling and taking pictures. Grumpy seemed greatly amused with his fascination.

"I'm sure the person we have to see would prefer an afternoon visit to a morning one." He said, so they wandered through the marketplace and looked around. After a bit they were forced to stop in a bit of shade, because the heat was starting to get to Harry. "You should get a thawb. It would help you."

"A what?" Grumpy rolled his eyes and pointed towards a stand selling the white robe things that he had seen even on muggles out here. They were long, going all the way to a person's ankles, with long sleeves. He looked at them skeptically. His jacket had long sleeves, and he had long since stuffed it into his bag because of how hot it made him.

"Go. Buy one. I'm tired of you complaining about the heat."

"I don't complain!"

"You don't need words to complain you idiot. Now go. Or I'll tell people you're insulting them whenever you ask me to translate." With a heated glare and several muttered insults Harry went to do as told. The man at the store smiled brightly at him, and helped him to get on. He recommended a Keffiyeh also, which seemed to be a checkered red cloth that went around his head to protect it from the sun and the shopkeep even showed him how he could wrap part of it over his mouth and nose when it was windy so he wouldn't get sand anywhere. He felt a little ridiculous in the getup, but he thanked the man all the same.

He was surprised, when he came out from the shade, and noted that he felt cooler; not so much that he wasn't still hot, but enough that he wasn't likely to have to stop so often. Grumpy gave him a particularly smug look that he ignored. They looked through the marketplace a bit more, and then they returned to their initial search.

This led them to a small stone muggle home, and Harry stood back a pace while Grumpy went to knock. A large man answered, and he looked at them both suspiciously. Harry's companion began talking in that language again, and barely a minute later he and the man were chatting and laughing like old friends. Harry watched this with disbelief and irritation. Apparently, Grumpy was perfectly capable of being a proper human being when it suited him. But not to Harry it would seem.

After a few minutes the man began gesturing and then looked to say goodbye to Grumpy, who responded in kind with a smile. Grumpy turned to him with a smirk, likely perfectly aware of Harry's thoughts on why the young man was such an arse to him.

"Well?"

"He says Mahdi stayed with him for a couple months, and then left. He went to Nizwa."

"Nizwa?" Grumpy nodded.

"It's east of here. We can take another bus."

"You're coming with me then?" Grumpy smirked.

"Of course. Without me you'd probably die of heatstroke."

"No I wouldn't!" He looked pointedly at the thawb Harry wore. "Shut up."

He just laughed.

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Nizwa was something like a hundred and forty miles away. Not as far as Ibri from Dubai, but far enough that it would mean a six hour bus ride. Harry absolutely refused. He would not be forced to sit there next to a smoking Grumpy for hours on end with a migraine. Never again. Not in a million years. Instead, they found a man who was willing to loan them a pair of camels. Or, to be more accurate, he needed something delivered to Nizwa, and his usual workers were gone, so as long as they did it, they could then leave the camels with one of his friends, who would bring them back after they got a couple days rest.

It was an old fashioned manner of travel, and it would take them two and a half days to get there, stopping to rest and sleep twice for the nights. Still, in Harry's opinion, quiet travel on a camel where Grumpy would be far enough to smoke without getting smoke or ash on him was like a luxury cruise in comparison to six more hours trapped on a bus with the infuriating young man.

So off they went.

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Riding a camel, Harry soon learned, was not as stress-free as he had initially believed. Camels were large clunky animals with coarse fur that took long sloping steps when they moved. This equated to mean that they were hard to climb onto, you rocked about quite a bit once you were on one, you had to wear long pants and socks so you didn't get itchy, and and after about half an hour, you started to hurt.

They had been forced to stop after only ten minutes so Harry could correct his mistake of wearing shorts and sandals for the first time beneath the thawb, Grumpy laughing at him all the while. Now, they had only been going for an hour or so more, and Harry's thighs, ass, and unmentionable regions ached. Still, it was quiet enough, and Grumpy kept his camel enough paces ahead of Harry's that while the teen could still smell the smoke, he wasn't suffocated by it, and he didn't have to hear if the other decided to say something to him.

All in all, a more painful trip than it would have been on a bus, but not as irritating at least. They stopped only twice after that before nightfall, both times to empty themselves. Harry learned the hard way that how embarrassing it was to pee on a bush in out in the open where anyone could see (not that anyone actually did). Then, finally, nightfall began to arrive, and they stopped. Grumpy set up a sort of tent for himself that was too small to fit Harry, and the teen himself laid out a tarp and a rolled up blanket to use as a pillow. Sleeping on the ground wasn't the most comfortable arrangement, but it wasn't so bad that Harry wouldn't be able to get to sleep, not with his calves aching like they did and exhaustion setting in.

They tied the camels onto spikes they pounded into the ground, and the beasts laid down and seemed quite content to rest and ignore the humans for a while. Grumpy set about making a fire (though why he didn't just use magic to do so...) and didn't answer him when Harry asked why; since they didn't exactly need the heat or anything. In the end, Harry fell asleep staring up at the sky; the first stars beginning to make themselves known.

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Harry grumbled as he was woken up, someone shaking his shoulder roughly. He growled at them, and they stopped. Thankful, he settled back down, then something hard smacked him in the face and he jumped into a sitting position with a snarl. Grumpy just smirked at him, his face barely visible in the firelight.

"What the hell? You do realize it's still night time?!" Grumpy rolled his eyes.

"It's your turn to keep watch."

"Huh?"

"Are you stupid or deaf?" Harry blinked.

"What do you mean keep watch?" Grumpy sighed.

"We're in the middle of the desert with all sorts of creatures running about; some of them sihr. Do you really think we're completely safe here?" Harry sat up straighter. "Keep the fire lit and keep an eye out. I'd like to get some sleep too you know." Harry watched him as he ducked into his tiny tent without another word, and heard him settle down. Had he been awake this whole time?

Harry sighed and stretched, cracking his back and then moving to sit closer to the fire. He threw a couple more bush branches on it, and poked at them with a stick until they began to light up. Then he sat back and just watched the flames. Somewhere a bird called out, and the camels shifted and made noise in their sleep. The flames were beautiful like this. When they weren't rushing towards him in preparation for killing him, it was like watching a dance. He lost himself in it, and, without meaning to, was soon lost to dreams of dancing fire fairies.

He wasn't sure what woke him when he next opened his eyes, but the world was still dark and the fire had gone down a bit. He grunted and put some more wood on it, bringing it back to life a bit. A snuffling sort of noise caught his ears and he looked up. There was nothing there, and he squinted through the darkness. He couldn't see anything, so he turned his attention back to the fire. Another sound rang out, like the sound of snapping wood, and his eyes moved up again. That hadn't come from the fire. His eyes scanned all around him and he even turned to look behind him, but there was nothing.

The camels suddenly chuffed and moved up to their feet, moving around nervously. He stood to go to them, and then saw something white out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at it.

Sheer terror washed over him like a bucket of ice, making him feel colder than any dementor ever had. His eyes went wide and he froze in place like a statue. It looked almost like an inferi, with graying white skin that looked rotten. It was pulled taut over a bony frame like a skeleton with skin and no muscle. But it was the face that caught him. There was no mouth, no ears, no nose. Just large eyes, like baseballs. There was no iris to them, and no pupil. They were brown and milky and filmed over. But they were looking at him. He knew they were. His breath stopped, fear keeping him from breathing properly; from running away or screaming as it came closer to him. It shuffled on bare feet, slowly, ever so slowly.

It came closer and closer, and then its' hands came up, and reached out for him. He watched, like a statue, and then those long fingers touched him, and suddenly the fear was gone. He could breathe again, but he still dare not move. The creature's eyes closed, and he began to feel numb. Then they opened, and this time they were green all over; green like his eyes. It let him go, and shuffled away. He stood there, unmoving, and didn't turn to watch it go.

What seemed like hours later he finally shivered and blinked, and then looked around himself. HIs eyes fell on Grumpy, who was half outside his tent, and watching him carefully with a blank expression that looked strange on a face that was usually adorned with a smirk. He knew the other had seen it.

"Wha-" He swallowed, his throat dry. "What was that?" He breathed.

"An Alu."

"What?"

"They wander the desert and eat the fear of the people they find."

"... Fear?" Grumpy shrugged.

"They scare people, and then they take the fear away, and they don't give it back. It's like... Like a gift, or a curse maybe. I can't explain it well. They're harmless really."

"Harmless." Grumpy nodded. "Right." Harry fell onto his bottom, his legs no longer able to hold him up. He swallowed, and then there was a canteen in front of his nose. "Thanks Grumpy." He took it and drank and then sat there with it in his hands.

"Grumpy?" Harry shrugged.

"You never gave me your name. I need to call you something." The other chuckled, and they sat there in silence for a time. Harry stared at the canteen, lost in thought. What... It had done something to him. He knew it had. He didn't understand what it had done. But it had done something. He wondered if Mahdi would know anything about Alu when they found him. Or if there was something in one of the books back at Bogdon that had something on them.

"Muhammad." He looked up.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Muhammad." He blinked.

"Oh."

They didn't speak again the rest of the night, and they didn't go back to sleep either. Harry wished he had just agreed to ride the bus.

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The next day was the same as the first. It took them nearly three hours to get the camels to be willing to move; the beasts still as badly shaken as Harry had been by the visit from the Alu. By the time they got them to go, they were running late. Other than that, the day passed by just as it had the previous. Aching calves, blistering heat, and itchy camel fur.

At least until they stopped. They were both tired, and in slight pain, and they had been moving slower that day than before, so when they came across the empty little shack along the path they decided to stop, even though it was only afternoon, and the sun wouldn't be down for another couple hours. The place was empty, aside from a few bugs, and there was an overhang on one side that made a large patch of shade for the camels to rest in. The place itself was tiny, only a single room, but after the previous night they both found it preferable to sleeping outside.

Besides that, the wind was picking up, and Gru- Muhammad, had begun muttering about sandstorms. He had roped Harry into helping him tie a large tarp up tightly around the posts that connected to the little overhang the camels were under, so they would be safe, and then they barricaded themselves inside, propping a half demolished bed (the only piece of furniture in the shack) up against the door to keep it closed.

Harry sat propped up against a wall, his backpack in his lap with his arms crossed over it, and Muhammad sat on the other side of the room smoking another cigarette. Harry eyed him. He wondered how many packs of the things the guy had, since he was certain he hadn't seen him without one in his hand for more than an hour at a time. He was a chronic smoker.

"What's so great about those things anyways?" The young man glanced up at him.

"Hmm?"

"Cigarettes." Muhammad shrugged. "Then why do you smoke them?"

"It keeps me calm, and I don't have to eat as often."

"Why would you care about that?" Muhammad eyed him.

"Not all of us are rich. When you have to live off very little, food becomes hard to come by. Cigarettes though are easy. They're everywhere. Most people will share a smoke before they'll share some change." Harry blinked.

"Oh." They drifted into silence, and Harry picked awkwardly at a nail.

"You want to try?" He looked up, the other was holding the lit white stick out towards him. He opened his mouth to object, and then reconsidered. Why not? He scooted across the floor until he was only a foot or so away from the other and then took the thing from him. He stared at it. "You just put it in your mouth and breathe into your lungs." Harry swallowed, and put it up to his mouth. He sucked in. "No no no. _Breathe_. If you just suck you don't get anything. He tried again, and then broke out in a fit of coughing, his lungs suddenly burning and his eyes watering. Muhammad patted him on the back.

"How- cough- how can you stand that?!" The young man chuckled.

"Relax. It's always like this the first time. Just calm down and take more. Your body gets used to it quickly." He gave him a dubious look, but tried again all the same. It burned still, but not so bad this time, and he only coughed once. By the fifth puff his lungs barely hurt at all, and he was surprised that he actually did feel calmer. "Told you so." His companion took out another one and lit it, and as they smoked together Harry didn't feel so awkward. He felt calmer now than he had since the previous night.

They were silent, and after several minutes, Harry's cigarette became too small to smoke anymore so he rubbed it out into the wooden floor. He felt relaxed, all the swirling emotions from earlier toned down now.

"I think I understand now." Muhammad smiled, and Harry blinked. It was the first time he had seen him smile. Actually smile rather than just smirk.

"It's not bad huh?" Harry shook his head.

"Isn't it bad for you though? Smoking?"

"Not if you are Sahir. Your sihr protects your lungs. Besides, it's not the tobacco that makes people sick, it's the chemicals."

"Chemicals." He nodded and took another puff on his own cigarette.

"They use chemicals when they take care of the plants, and they add more to make it more addicting, so it's harder to stop." Harry nodded in understanding.

"... You said they make you eat less?" He shrugged.

"They make you hungry less often, and that makes you eat less."

"I see." He paused. "Muhammad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you tell me your name?"

"Isn't that what you are supposed to do?"

"You wouldn't tell me before."

"So?"

"So I want to know why." Muhammad looked at him.

"Why does it matter?"

"I-" Harry sighed. "Nevermind."

"... I didn't want to."

"What?"

"I didn't want to tell you my name when you asked."

"But you wanted to tell me later?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"... Okay."

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The next morning the sandstorm hit them, and they were trapped in the little shack as a result. The walls around them shook violently, and Harry worried that the place wasn't strong enough and would come down around them. His nerves had Muhammad slipping another cigarette into his fingers and he accepting it in spite of himself.

There was a phrase somewhere that was something like 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. This wasn't Rome, but a lot of people here, not just Muhammad, smoked, so he figured that he could too so long as he was here. He firmly told himself that he would quit when he returned to Bogdon.

Harry waited for the storm to pass, and tried to focus on a book he had brought with him, Muhammad busy reading what looked like a magazine across the room. For a moment, he mourned the loss of his ability to see people's inner beasts, and wondered what Muhammad's would be. He liked to think he was a fox. A desert fox prone to mischief. He stifled a chuckle at the image of the young man with huge twitching fox ears and a bushy tail. The other looked up at him with a raised brow and he only shook his head. He was promptly ignored after that.

They ate dried fruit and strange bread that looked almost like thick tortillas, which Muhammad told him was 'pita'. They had been eating similar foods since they left Ibri to travel on the camels, and Harry missed Sa'id's wonderful cooking terribly.

The sandstorm finally passed about halfway through the day, and Harry was thankful for it. In the heat of the sun, the little shack had quickly become a hot box, so being able to get out was nice. It was still hot outside, but it wasn't as bad. The tarp had held, thankfully, so while they had to dig the bottom of it our of the sand, the camels were fine and seemed perfectly happy to leave. The storm had delayed them even more, and they would have to stop for a third night. It was troublesome, and Harry was getting anxious, but hopefully the delay wouldn't cause them too much trouble.

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Their third night passed them by without further incident, and Harry shared another cigarette with Muhammad before taking the first watch, waking the other up for his in the middle of the night when he could barely keep his eyes open. It was late in the afternoon when they finally made it to Nizwa, and the friend of the man who had given them the camels let them stay the night with him. He even fed them some stew. It wasn't as good as any of Sa'id's cooking, but it was better than the dried foods they'd been eating on the way there.

The thick blankets laid on the wooden floor of the little house felt heavenly after sleeping on a thin tarp for three days that barely gave any cushioning between him and the ground. Muhammad seemed to agree, because he didn't even have his usual before-bed cancer stick before he fell asleep. Harry joined him fairly quickly.

In the morning they wandered into town, finding their way to yet another address. Muhammad spoke with the darkly robed woman who answered the door, and she seemed very friendly, but Harry felt his stomach drop when she inevitably closed the door and the young man came back to the street and him.

"He's not here is he?"

"No." Harry groaned, and the other chuckled and handed something to him. he blinked at the piece of paper.

"What's this?"

"It's a map. The man you're looking for lives in the mountains, to the North. He comes by every couple months or so, for supplies and to visit. He was here just last week, so he won't be back for awhile, but you can follow the map to go to him instead of waiting." Harry snatched the piece of paper away and stared at it like it was the holy grail. Then the other's words caught up to him.

"Wait. Me? Not we?" Muhammad nodded.

"Since you know where he is now, I'm going back to Sa'id's. I like it there."

"You're not coming with me?" He shook his head.

"No."

"But..."

"Come on. We can look around town and spend one more night at the hotel. So we can rest before we have to leave." So we can have one more day together went unsaid, but Harry heard it anyways.

"... Okay."

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Muhammad shook his hand with a grin the next morning, before Harry turned towards the mountains. He would be hiking on foot, since there wasn't really another way to get to Mahdi's home. What kind of person lived on a mountain anyways? He had barely taken five steps from the other when his name was called.

"Harry!" He turned back, and just barely managed to catch the thing that was thrown at him. He blinked, and Muhammad tossed him a grin over his shoulder before running off. He watched him go quietly and then turned his attentions on the little bag he had been given. Inside were two packs of cigarettes, a pack of matches, a stack of pita bread, and an amulet.

It was bronze, with an image of a fish engraved masterfully into it, and more of that beautiful language he couldn't read scrawled all along the edges. He felt the magic on it as soon as he touched it and frowned. There was a note stuck to it also.

_To keep you cool so you don't die of heatstroke. Idiot._

His brow twitched but he put it on carefully...

And as coolness and blessed relief from the heat washed over him he promptly cursed Muhammad for not having given it to him sooner.

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The talisman was a godsend. Where before he had been stuck in the blistering heat, the native clothing only offering enough relief to keep him from dying of heatstroke (as Muhammad was so certain would happen to him). With the thing settled around his neck though, he felt only uncomfortably warm. He still sweat, but it was no longer unbearable, and if he stopped moving for time, or was in the shade, it was actually nice. He grumbled a bit at the thought that the other had probably had the thing the entire time, and wondered if it explained how he seemed to be so unbothered by the heat.

It was especially helpful given that travelling over rough ground and occasionally having to climb was more physically challenging than walking on flat ground or riding a camel; no matter that his thighs and ass thanked him for that being over and done with. He vowed to deal with the bus in the future, or find some other method of travel. He would never again ride a camel if he could help it.

The Jabal Shams mountain range was actually more Northwest than just North of Nizwa, and it was defined by grey and brown stone and dirt and the very occasional bush. There was a tiny dirt trail that cut off from the main road near Nizwa to lead into them, and it was this road he found himself traveling along. He only stopped to relieve himself, and otherwise kept walking. It still look him almost until nightfall to make it into the mountains themselves, the trail thinning out more and more, and then it jutted sharply uphill. He followed it, having to doubleback once because he had thought he was still following it but wasn't, and found his way onto an outcropping at the side of the trail where he chose to make camp for the night.

It was high up enough that he hoped nothing would bother him, not that it looked as though anything could live up here anyways. The higher up he went the less vegetation there was, and nothing could live without food...

At least nothing that didn't feed off something else, like dementors or that Alu thing, but... Dementors prefered colder places, so it was unlikely he'd find one in a desert, and the Alu had been creepy, but once it had left he hadn't felt scared anymore, and he didn't feel that way looking back now either. Besides, it hadn't actually harmed him, so it wasn't _that_ bad. All the same, with any luck, he would be left alone.

Indeed, the night passed without issue, and Harry woke unaccosted and uninjured; all of his things where they had been when he fell asleep. So he continued on. The trail led him higher up, and he found himself forced to double back several times to second day to make sure he was going the right direction. About halfway through he was forced to rest and relax his legs.

He had barely gone a mile more when he tripped (his balance sucked with his tail subdued by the glamour, but he was too paranoid to take the band off even out here). He reached out to catch himself, and a sharp rock sliced through his hand. He hissed and blood flowed freely from the wound. He stayed on his knees while assessing the damage.

The rock had cut fairly deep, slicing right through his palm. He cussed. In all his preparation for coming out here, he had never thought to pack bandages, but if he tried to heal the wound with magic... He might succeed... Or he might blow up his hand. With a sigh he tore the bottom of the cotton thawb off and wrapped the strap of cloth as tightly around his palm as he could without cutting off the circulation.

Then he kept going. He was relieved when the path flattened out a bit, though it began twisting this way and that. It was better than walking uphill or having to climb. Mostly it was just tiring, and he stopped several more times before nightfall. Once to change his bandage, once to eat, another to smoke a cigarette.

He was surprised how different it was to travel alone than it had been to travel with Muhammad. They didn't even talk much, but it still felt so much quieter without him there. He had grown used to the sound of another person's breathing and movements and the click click sound his lighter made every time he lit up another cancer stick. The woosh sound the matches made when he lit one was so different and foreign by comparison.

Muhammad loved to annoy him, and he had gotten used to the little things the young man did like flicking ash at him or whistling in a high pitch or throwing things at him. He had gotten irritated often, that was true, but without all those little things life suddenly felt very dull. He wondered at what point exactly, that Muhammad had gone from an annoyance to a friend.

He wished he had tried to convince the other to come, or that he had brought someone from home with him in the first place. True that it was more dangerous for him to travel with someone else, but, honestly, he was lonely.

It was a strange state for him. He had grown up with the Dursleys, who, in his childhood, had never treated him well or wanted anything to do with him. The lies they had spread and the way Dudley would pick on anyone who was nice to him had led him to not have any friends, so he had grown up mostly alone. He had read books and hidden away in his cupboard. He had always prefered the quiet.

But then he had come to Hogwarts, and had made his first friends, and then it seemed like he had never been alone. Even during those summers before his family had changed their tune, he had still had Hedwig, and even if she hadn't been able to say anything back, he had talked to her, and she had listened and made little crooning noises. He hadn't been alone since the day he met Hagrid, not really, and when he was it had never been for very long.

He didn't even really count his trips to the Keeper's library, because he had only gone there when he _needed_ to be alone. But now, when he didn't he suddenly was.

He didn't like it.

**tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata**

The only redeeming feature about at hot night alone in desert mountains, Harry decided, was the view of the sky. As high up as he was, there was nothing to mar his view of the night sky and all the stars it held. He could see them all; the beautiful and incredible milky way. It reminded him of those few nights sitting beside a centaur and gazing upwards, except that then his view had been narrow because off all the trees around him. Here, there was nothing but the sky, and Harry relished in it before going to bed.

The next morning he took a look at his map to ensure he was going the right way, and marked his progress on it. He was about halfway there as far as he could tell. That would mean one or two more nightly stops before he arrived, and then he would be at Mr. El-Amin;s home, and hopefully, the man wouldn't just turn him away after how far he had come. He had come out here with the optimistic hope that he would somehow be able to convince the hard to find author to help him, and he was prepared to throw aside his pride and grovel on his knees if that was what it took.

He set out with his goal reaffirmed in his mind and a cigarette in his mouth. His body had begun to grow used to the harsh travel, and though he knew his feet were covered in blisters, they were also numb, so he hardly paid any mind to it. He didn't need to stop as many times this day, and it was almost dark when something other than the path caught his attention. A far off booming hit his ears; a strange sound that was very misplaced considering he had heard nothing but wind and his own sounds for the past couple of days.

He turned around to look, and his eyes fell on dark clouds in the distance. His eyes narrowed. Rain in Oman was very very rare, but when a storm did come it could last anywhere from ten minutes to several hours. The ominous clouds were far away, but they looked to be moving fast in his direction. He probably had a few hours before the storm hit him, but it would hit him. He nodded to himself and looked around, climbing up just a bit off the path to get a better view.

There was a small cave just a little ways up, and upon sight of it he went right for it. He was only a few feet away from the entrance when he tripped again. He caught himself with his hands and cussed violently. When he got up he glared down and tried to find whatever he had tripped on this time. When he saw, his glare vanished and he stared, mouth slightly open.

For Harry had tripped over a naked man.

**tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatatata**

I remember this chapter as being really fun to write, but at the moment I can't remember _why_.

The Alu is a real mythological creature, I just took a bit of creative license with its' appearance and behavior. As for the smoking thing, sue me. I'm not promoting smoking, as, yea, when you're an ordinary human being like all of us, it's bad for you. But I live in Vegas, where everyone and their grandma smokes, and have very few members of my family who don't do it. Besides that, Harry is an older teenager, and needs something semi-rebellious to do, even something as small as cigarettes. So I apologize if you have a problem with it, but I'm not changing it.

Besides that, yes, the naked man is probably who you think he is.

Now that I'm done, I'll see you all next week. Have a great week yourselves, you don't have to stay out of trouble, but try not to get caught, and come back for more next Friday.

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate.

P.S. One of my reviewers asked why I'm 'Mr. Hate', and what it is that I hate. Anyone care to take a guess?


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